Lone Wolves
by SpartAl412
Summary: The Battle for Reach has ended and the forces of the Covenant Empire now stand victorious. On the surface of the planet, the Spartan, Noble Six fights his defiant last stand against the alien legions. Unknown to the Spartan is that several new players have entered the fray and the bloody war which had been fought over the planet begins anew.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story was written without any knowledge of the books and comics; the only other Halo related media I have seen is Halo Legends. I am open to feedback so feel free to post what you think. Like the rest of my crossover stories, the events herein will be of a separate, non-canonish continuity from the non crossover tales... and I honestly have no idea why I even thought that this was a good idea.**

* * *

><p>Looking up to the cloudy red skies as a pair of Banshees flew overhead, Spartan B-312 watched as the enemy dropships made their descent. A slight fog of dust had descended upon the remains of the Aszod ship-breaking yard where the many bodies of his brothers and sisters lay, it mattered not whether they were fellow Spartans or the common soldiers of the UNSC Army for they were all comrades in arms, fighting to defend humanity from their alien foe. Bright lights flashed in the distance and the lone Spartan knew that his end was coming.<p>

His once grey suit of MJOLNIR powered assault armor was now covered in dirt, grime and dried alien blood for he had not the time to properly perform maintenance and cleaning. B-312 personally had his armor modified to provide him with as much protection as physically possible without sacrificing speed and mobility for the Spartan often enjoyed getting in up close and personal. The symbol of the golden Fleur-de-lis which had been placed over his left collarbone was still visible under the patina of dirt, he did not know why he chose it, but the symbol seemed appropriate when he had received word that he would be transferred to a squad called Noble Team.

Strangely, the Spartan who was also called Noble Six did not feel any fear, despair or regret at his current situation. Rather, he felt contented and satisfied at what he had accomplished. The A.I. which Dr. Halsey had assigned him to deliver was now safely away from Reach, hopefully, the crew of the Pillar of Autumn would be heading towards Earth.

Emile's last defiant words echoed in the mind of Noble Six, "I am ready, How 'bout you?!"

In a way, Six was ready as well. He remembered the faces of his squad mates, Jorge, Kat, and Carter as well as the faces of all those men and women who had died fighting the Covenant. Anger and hate flared up inside the Spartan, all too familiar emotions which he had been keeping pent up and finally now, he had a release for it.

Tightening the grip on his designated marksman's rifle and watching as the alien forces deployed multiple infantry squads near his position, Noble Six vowed to make them pay for every inch of soil with their blood.

* * *

><p>'Landing in five minutes' announced a Sangheili pilot who was busily operating the control console of a Spirit transport craft.<p>

'Acknowledged' came the gruff response of a red armored Major who was currently located on the left transportation compartment of the Spirit.

A Demon had been spotted and ground forces were being deployed to slay it, a great honor it would be for the warrior who manages to land the killing blow. He did wonder though as of why high command would choose to send so many warriors to slay this one Demon, it was not his place to question orders or the plans of his superiors and so the pilot left it at that. He for one though was glad not be assigned to the ground operations, the Demons were mighty foes who were often quite capable of single-handedly laying waste to entire squadrons.

A sudden series of beeps and red flashing lights appeared on the control console of the transport craft and the pilot glanced down to see what it was. Placing his right hand on the flashing light, the pilot watched as the holographic display showed a new set of orders being issued. An unknown energy spike had been detected by the sensors of the ships in orbit and command needed the squad he was transporting to investigate for they were the closest to the site.

Relaying the change of plans to his passengers, the Major dutifully complied and the pilot set a new course. It was not far from the location where the Demon had been spotted, no doubt that when the Major's squad investigates whatever it was the fleet's sensors had picked up, they would resume with the mission to slay the Demon. After a few more, uneventful minutes, the pilot set the ship close to the ground and gave the signal to disembark.

'Good hunting' spoke the pilot over the communications to the leader of his passengers and the Major responded with a blessing in the name of the Gods.

* * *

><p>Landing on the dusty ground with an audible grunt, an Unggoy Minor watched as his comrades landed near him. The screen of dust and grit stung the Grunt's eyes and he wished that he had brought some protective eyewear. Scanning their surroundings while breathing deeply, the Grunt was rather terrified for he had heard that there was a Demon nearby.<p>

'Spread out into pairs and search for anything unusual!' came the voice of their Sangheili squad leader and the Grunts dutifully obeyed.

Keeping his eyes peeled opened, the Grunt saw another of his squad mates move towards him and he nodded with relief. Visibility was low in this place thought the Grunt with worry for if there were any foes about, there may be a good chance of them being ambushed. For several tense minutes, the Grunt and his comrade continued to survey the dusty plains and in the distance at the edge of his hearing, he heard the distant sounds of gunfire of human weaponry and the screams of fellow Unggoy as well as those of Elites.

The sharp sounds and green flashes of plasma pistol fire went off not far to the north of the Grunt and his companion and the two reluctantly went to investigate it. Moving towards where the shots were fired the Grunt noticed movements at the corner of his eyes and he frantically looked about to see with relief, the silhouettes of his fellow Unggoy and even their Elite leader. When they arrived at their destinations, the Grunt and his fellows were horrified to see two of their kin lying dead with blood gushing out from savage wounds which bled profusely.

'Did anyone see what happened?!' demanded the Elite and the Grunt looked to his fellow Unggoy as each of them gave an uncertain and terrified look to their squad leader.

The Elite gave them a disdainful grunt before going over to the corpses and kneeling down to inspect them. The Grunt nervously watched his squad's leader and he could hear his fellows fearfully whispering about the presence of the Demon. The Elite had then found something which drew his attention and soon he brought up an odd-looking tuft of black fur like those sometimes shed by the Jiralhanae.

Their squad leader then brought the tufts of fur close to his face and Grunt could hear him sniffing it. 'It does not smell of a Brute' muttered the Elite. As their squad leader further studied the tuft of fur, a loud screech of pain echoed from one of the other Unggoy and the Grunt saw with horror as his unfortunate kinsman fell with a massive black furred beast upon its back.

As far as the Grunt could tell, it had a long, sinuous body which was completely covered black fur; its teeth were bared at them with bright blue Unggoy blood covering its maw. The beast somewhat resembled the four-legged creatures which could often be found on human worlds and were kept by the humans as pets and guard beasts, a dog he thinks they are called. The dog-thing growled savagely at them, its eyes were black pits of pure darkness which seemed to glint with an unnatural intellect.

'Kill it!' roared the Elite and the grunts were quick to aim their plasma pistols at the creature.

Sporadic bright bolts of green plasma flew towards the black furred dog-thing which swiftly leapt away from the shots which struck the ground behind whereit had just been standing while other bolts struck the body of their fallen comrade. The dog-thing was incredibly fast, it evaded the plasma bolts and strafed towards the Elite who fired a volley of bright blue bolts from his plasma rifle. Each shot from the Elite the Grunts had missed their mark and before they knew it, the beast leapt towards the Elite and its jaws fastened around the neck of their squad leader.

A brief flash of blue energy flashed from the Elite as the dog-thing's jaws ripped through the shields of their squad leader and with single jerk of its head, the Elite's throat was torn out. Blue blood sprayed out in a gushing torrent with drops of it splattering on those Grunts closest to the Elite. Shaking his legs with fear, the Grunt's courage was shattered and he heard one of his comrades shout 'WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!'

Throwing his hands up and turning away from this monstrous creature, the Grunt ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. After two steps, he felt a great weight knock him face first to the ground and in less than a heartbeat, savage jaws clamped down around his skull, piercing flesh and bone. With a single tear, the dog-thing ripped the upper half of the grunt's head off from his body before loping towards another of the Unggoy.

* * *

><p>Feeling the satisfying impact as the point of his knife slipped into the soft flesh of an Elite's neck, Noble Six swung his shotgun to his left using only one hand, the barrel of the gun was pointed at the face of another Elite and he squeezed the trigger. In a split second, the alien's head was pulverized into a shower of blue meat, bits of metal from its helmet and bone as it took the shotgun blast at point-blank range. Retracting his knife and sheathing it, Noble Six placed his right hand on the underside of his shotgun and he gave a it a strong pump.<p>

Down to three more shells the Spartan thought grimly, better make them count then. Sprinting up towards a hill with a burned out bunker atop of it while evading bolts of plasma fire, he saw a red armored Elite rush him while firing a burst of bolts from a Plasma Repeater. Taking the energy bolts which impacted against his shields, Noble Six swung the stock of his shotgun into the alien knocking it back and damaging its shield with a bright flash.

The Elite countered by hurling a hook punch at the Spartan who swiftly ducked underneath the strike and he brought his shotgun up to it and fired another blast at point-blank range which sent a hail of buckshot into the alien's chest. The Elite fell back with a cry of pain as the front of its torso was obliterated by the shotgun blast, Noble Six did not have time to dwell on his latest kill for there were more aliens behind him. Heading back to the bunker, the Spartan took a few more plasma bolts to the back but was otherwise unharmed.

Quickly moving to the back of the bunker where he had earlier spotted an assault rifle, he dropped his DMR which was now emptied of all ammunition. The screaming voice of an alien Grunt rang out and the Spartan halted his movements before quickly hopping back. He saw a crazed Grunt emerge from the doorway at the back of the bunker with two active plasma grenades in hands, huffing in contempt for the alien, he blasted it without a second thought.

The Grunt flew back while dropping its two plasma grenades and the Spartan moved as quickly as he could away from the primed explosives. A bright flash of blue energy exploded behind him and before they dissipated, Noble Six went back to the door way to see if the assault rifle was still there. Plasma bolts struck the blackened wall to the left of the moving Spartan as he exited the bunker and to his delight, he saw that the rifle was still there.

Picking up the assault rifle and quickly shouldering it, he heard the steps of another alien to his right and he looked to see a red armored Elite charging him with a concussion rifle. Bright bolts of energy flew towards Noble Six and one struck a little too close to the Spartan who was knocked back by it while a flash of white light temporarily seared his retinas while the upper right section of his EOD helmet's visor cracked.

Landing with a grunt as his back struck the hard ground, Noble Six saw the Elite who had shot him leap up with an energy dagger now activated its right hand while the Concussion Rifle was still held in its left. Rolling to his left in time to avoid being stabbed in the gut, the Spartan brought up his shotgun and fired the last shell at the Elite's head. A new coat of blue splattered the wall of the bunker and Spartan dropped his shotgun in favor of the alien weapon.

Despite it all, the Spartan had yet to suffer a physical injury, let's see how long that lasts he thought as he got back up and the Lone Wolf resumed his hunt.

* * *

><p>'What do you mean one squad has not reported in?!' demanded a golden armored Sangheili General as he spoke into his communications device.<p>

At the moment, the General was upon a lookout tower not far from where his forces had cornered the Demon. The dust cloud which had descended upon them had nullified any ability to directly see what was going and the General was forced to rely on coordinating the efforts of the different squads involved in the operation.

'The squad sent to investigate the anomaly is not answering our hails sir!' came the reply of a communications officer.

'Do you have any idea on how many warriors the Demon has killed?!' shouted the General 'we need more reinforcements if we are to kill it'

'We are sending more your way sir!' the communications officer said before switching the feed to another unit.

Grunting with displeasure at the incompetence of those he had to work with, the General was getting more than he had bargained for. The Demon had already killed more than a dozen of his Elites with several more grunts now dead as well. It was supposed to be a swift kill an act akin to finishing off prey that was already cornered and wounded.

The General had to admit though that he was rather impressed by the skill of this Demon. There was honor in facing an overwhelmingly large number of foes, defiant to the very end, even when death was inevitable. Perhaps when this battle was over, he would keep a piece of the Demon's armor as a trophy.

'Squad Nine! Move in!' ordered the General towards a Major which led a unit of three other Elites. The General was answered with silence and he grew annoyed at this for if it was not equipment failure then this would be clear insubordination. Calling up the squad again and receiving no answer, he ordered another squad which had been near Squad Nine's position to investigate and was glad to hear an acknowledgement from their leader.

Garbled reports came in from the squads sent after the Demon and the General's frustration increased at the lack of skill his warriors displayed. Eventually, the leader of the previous squad he had contacted finally reported in.

'They are all dead sir!' came the surprised voice of the squad leader. 'Squad Nine has been wiped out, it looks like something... tore their throats out.'

'What do you mean tore their throats out?!' questioned the General in disbelief for he had now knowledge of any local wildlife which would be capable of killing an entire squad of Sangheili so quickly.

'As I said sir there…' said the squad leader before several sharp discharges of plasma weapons were heard from the other side of the communications line. 'Hold your fire!' roared the squad leader and the sounds of more plasma weapons being discharged could be heard.

'By the Prophets! Who is shooting at you?!' demanded the General and he heard the high-pitched squeals and chatter of grunts.

'Something scared the Grunts sir, I didn't see what it…' said the squad leader as his voice trailed off and the General heard the squad leader speak in an unsure tone 'what is that?'

'What is what? What do you see?' impatiently asked the General for there was something going on here.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and then the General heard the sounds of shots being fired again. A loud savage bark was heard from the squad leader's end of the communications line and the terrified screams of Grunts were heard. Just what in the Prophet's name was going on out there? Thought the General.

Quickly reaching for his Plasma Sword, the General activated the weapon and heard the hiss of air being ionized as the energy blade formed its deadly edge. Descending from the tower, the General landed gracefully upon the ground and he opened up a link to the communications officer again.

'I need the coordinates to the last location of Squads Nine and Eleven' demanded the General and he immediately saw on his HUD an arrow which was pointing towards location to the west. Moving as quickly as he could, the Elite General began to have a rather strange, gut feeling that his forces were not the only things out here on this plain.

* * *

><p>You just had to go jinx it up didn't you? Thought Noble Six as he heavily breathed with his back to the wall of the bunker with a dead Elite lying at his feet. The Spartan had acquired a new Plasma Sword after shooting an Elite with a charged up plasma pistol shot and shooting its ugly face with a well placed Magnum round. Upon Noble Six's back, he still had the assault rifle and his Magnum had been holstered to the side of his right waist, the concussion rifle had been discarded after he used up all of its ammo and temporarily switched to the unorthodox tactic of wielding two pistols.<p>

Pain coursed through his body as he had taken several plasma bolts which had breached his shield and armor. His visor was now severely cracked around the edges and he no longer had access to his radar, and his ammo counter. At the least, though, the damned noise from the Wraith tank had been silenced after he destroyed it with a Spartan Laser which had been lying around, now the only noise he had to worry about was the voices of the aliens and their guns.

As his shields recharged, Noble Six felt a plasma bolt strike him and the meter showed that it was not even fully restored. Muttering a curse and sprinting away from his position, he saw several more of the aliens open fire at him with bolts of plasma flying past him, more than a few had come a little too close for comfort. A blue armored Elite with a plasma rifle charged out from behind some rocks while shouting an alien battle cry.

The Elite thrust its foot at him in forwards a kick, the Spartan barely managed to dodge it by side stepping to his right. Thrusting the plasma sword upwards at the Elite, Noble Six impaled the alien's chest before bringing the blade down and passing through its groin. The Elite fell back with the meat inside its body charred by the sword.

Sprinting ahead once more and doing his best to avoid the alien weapons fire, Noble Six felt a searing pain explode across his back as he heard and felt the loud blast of a focus rifle's energy beam. Stumbling to the ground and feeling more tired than he had ever been in his entire life; it took all of the Spartan's willpower to keep on going. Getting back up to his feet and taking a left turn, Noble Six saw another Elite coming towards him with a dagger charged and ready while firing a plasma rifle one handed.

Two of the bolts struck Noble Six who hissed in pain as he felt the searing heat burn his skin underneath the armor. Running towards the alien with his plasma sword which he hoped, still had a lot of power, the alien suddenly then deactivated its dagger and it swiftly brought out a plasma grenade which in a blink of an eye, primed and threw at him. Loudly cursing, Noble Six leapt to his left, barely in time to avoid being stuck by the grenade and he saw the shadow of the Elite fall upon him.

Pain exploded across the head of Noble Six as the Elite managed to smash its weapon on his helmet. His shield was the only thing which fully prevented the strike from outright killing him but his helmet's visor was shattered by the strike and he saw his opponent through its cracks. Acting on instincts alone, Noble Six swung the sword at the Elite and was rewarded by a surprised shout of pain from the alien as the plasma grenade exploded nearby, unfortunately though, he saw that his Swords' power had run out.

Cursing again for it seemed that his luck had run out, Noble Six discarded the plasma sword hilt and he placed his hands around his helmet. Removing his head gear and feeling the warm air kiss his skin while the smell of burnt flesh and alien blood filled his nostrils. He then dropped his helmet to the ground and noticed that his assault rifle had also fallen but at least it was within his reach.

Grabbing the assault rifle, he was glad to see the ammo counter upon it indicated that there were still thirty two rounds inside it. This was it he thought, it was time to face the music.

* * *

><p>'By the Prophets…' muttered the Elite General as he looked upon the charnel scene which lay before him.<p>

The bodies of Elites and Grunts were strewn across the ground, their bodies had been savagely ripped to gruesome shreds as pieces of bloody flesh, bone and armor were scattered. It was as if a pack of crazed Brutes had gone on a feeding frenzy. Quickly establishing a link with the main communications channel of the fleet, the General began calling for extra back up to be sent.

'Sir, we have cornered the Demon, we have it wounded!' came the excited voice of one of his Ultras.

'Kill the demon and be done with it!' commanded the General 'there is something out there, in the dust cloud'

'Sir?' asked the confused voice of the Ultra.

'Just keep your eyes open, we are not alone out here' the General quickly replied.

'Yes General' was the response of the Ultra who cut the feed.

Looking to the ground and searching for any possible signs of what had killed the two squads, the General found a set of prints upon the ground and a trail of blue blood. Following the direction of the trail, the General saw that it was leading to the hill, where the Demon had been cornered.

* * *

><p>Searing pain exploded across the chest of Noble Six as a series of plasma bolts struck him. His vision swam as his head became light from blood-loss and it took all of his willpower to remain standing. Seeing three Elites coming at him, Noble Six brought up his assault rifle in his right hand while in his left, he held his pistol and proceeded to unload the full contents of both guns. He managed to kill two of the aliens but the third got close enough to swing a punch at him with enough force to knock him off of his feet.<p>

For a brief moment of vertigo, Noble Six felt a sense of weightlessness and then suddenly, pain exploded across the back of his head as he crashed upon the ground. The Elite who had knocked him down was now coming at him with an active energy dagger in its right hand. The alien then leapt up and brought its blade down upon the Spartan who swiftly brought his right leg up to kick it in the chest and push the alien away.

At the corner of his eye, Noble Six saw another elite come at him with a plasma sword. Looking towards the alien whose blade blazed with a deadly energy, his entire world seemed to slow down in what he knew would be his last moments. With perfect clarity, Noble Six saw every detail of the Elite which was coming right at him, the design of its armor, the particles of dust which were swept away by its charge and its eyes which balefully glared at him.

This was it he thought, at least he had done his duty and he had made sure to kill a whole lot of the bastards before they take him down. He wished that he still had a grenade so that perhaps he could blow himself up while taking the aliens with him. As the Elite raised its sword arm, ready to strike the killing blow, Noble Six heard and saw something which he never would have expected in million years.

A massive black furred wolf knocked down the Elite from its side, the wolf then lunged its jaws towards the throat of the alien and tore it out. The black wolf then turned towards the Elite he had kicked and it sprinted towards the alien with an incredible speed. The Elite swung its foot towards the wolf, attempting to kick its chin but the beast avoided it by moving its head to the side before leaping up and clamping its jaws upon the Elite's throat.

Just as with the first one, the black wolf tore out the alien's neck in a gushing torrent of blood, its teeth had ripped through both the alien's shield and armor as easily as his knife would. There was a final, sword-wielding Elite which had sought to slay the Spartan but now its gaze was focused upon the wolf, its coat was matted blue with alien blood. The Elite stood there, transfixed by the gaze of the black wolf which pawed its way closer and much to Noble Six's surprise, the alien did nothing to resist before the beast tore the alien's throat out as well.

The wolf then turned its gaze to Noble Six and he saw two obsidian orbs studying him, in its eyes, he saw a keen intellect which went beyond the any normal animal understanding. His vision then swam as he felt light-headed and the several wounds he had sustained began to overwhelm him with pain and darkness began to cloud his sight. His eyes rolled up to the back of his head, and the Spartan known as Noble Six knew only the sweet bliss of oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

'What is that thing?!' muttered a horrified blue armored Elite Minor in disbelief as the bodies of several Sangheili veterans and officers were ringed around the Demon of whom he was not even sure was dead. What truly drew the attentions of the Covenant Warriors was the black furred beast which growled and bared its fangs at them. From his view, the Minor could see the sheer amount of both Sangheili and Unggoy blood which coated its fur.

'What are you waiting for?!' demanded an Ultra wielding a concussion rifle 'kill that monstrosity!'

With perfect precision, the Elites raised their guns at the creature, ready to open fire and as they were about to shoot, the beast raised its head to the sky and it let out a long mournful howl which sent unnatural chills down the spine of the Minor. At the corner of his eyes, he saw that his comrades, fellow Sangheili were also unnerved by the beast's call, it was as if he were hearing the voices of the damned. The beast's eyes which at first seemed like black pits of darkness then transformed into bright green flames which chilled the Minor to his very soul.

The winds howled loudly around them, the Elites looked up in fear as the unnatural chill they felt had vastly intensified and indeed, the Minor saw his own breath misting as if he were in a place of ice and snow. An intense weariness descended upon the Minor who began to feel as if he needed to lie down and sleep. The weight of his plasma rifle began to become too heavy for him and Minor looked down to his hands to see what was happening to him.

In horror, the Minor saw that his hands were withering before his very eyes, as if he were already becoming decrepit with age. Looking to his comrades, he saw that the same thing was happening to them, warriors who were at the prime of their lives had in mere seconds, become so old that they began to sag down with the weight of their own equipment. Some of the older Sangheili suddenly then exploded in a shower of dust, leaving only their gear to clatter on the ground as distant screams at the edge of their hearing was heard.

The air around them became filled with a thick grey mist which was impossible to see through. Several more of the other Elites suddenly exploded in clouds of dust as well before finally, the Minor himself had suffered the same, grisly fate.

* * *

><p>High above the newly conquered planet, the Covenant Ship known as The Vigil of Remembrance had picked up, yet again that strange energy reading. The operations crews of the ship were focusing all power on their scanners and what they found had defied all explanation. The first reading was located not far from the area of operation where the Demon had been located; the second reading on the other hand had been located in the Operational Zone.<p>

The Operational Zone was now covered in cloud of grey mists, none which their sensors could penetrate. Ground teams of Elites and Grunts had briefly sent out reports of being completely blinded by the fog, but soon those reports ended with screams and the brief sound of gunfire before silence descended upon them. Needles to say, the crew had become deeply unnerved by what they had heard.

Sitting upon the command throne of the ship, the Sangheili Master of the Ship was contemplating on his options. His instincts told him to order all warriors back and to glass the Operational Zone, but what if the Demon was carrying something from the Forerunner facility underneath the ice shelf? Some ancient artifact of great power? Could he allow himself to commit heresy by destroying a sacred relic of the Ancients?

In the end, the Shipmaster found that he could not risk destroying such an artifact. The warriors under his command would understand for each one would gladly make the sacrifice. The Shipmaster would make sure that at the least, each fallen warrior would posthumously be honored for their sacrifice in bringing their empire closer to the Great Journey. Opening the communications channel to the waiting legions of warriors still within The Vigil of Remembrance, the Shipmaster ordered for his troops to prepare for landing.

* * *

><p>Standing before the unnatural fog of grey mist, the Elite General watched with wary eyes for any movement within and all he saw were the eddies and swirls of the mist. There was something about it which deeply unnerved him. The temperatures had drastically dropped and from behind the fog, he heard nothing of the squads who had gone inside.<p>

He called once more to the warriors he had sent in and again, he got nothing from them. The General waited for a moment, unsure if he should wait for reinforcements and he silently watched as his plasma sword generated a glow of bluish light. Taking a deep series of breaths to calm himself and whispering a prayer, the General activated his cloaking field and proceeded into the fog.

Keeping watch on the Motion Tracker of his HUD, the Sangheili General cautiously searched the surrounding mists for any signs of his warriors or whatever it was that had slain the previous squads. Each step was followed by a tense breath of cold air which filled his lungs as the chill in his spine grew colder. At the edge of hearing, he thought that he had heard the distant echoes of screams while the faces of his kin appeared within the mists.

What madness is this? Thought the general as stepped forward and began to suspect that he had made a terrible mistake.

'I cannot see…' came a whispered voice to his right. Looking to the source of the voice, the General saw one of his Majors whose eyes were pitch black as a viscous, tar-like substance dripped from his eyes and mouth. 'I cannot see the light… where is the light?' asked the Major with fear in his voice 'brothers? Are you there? Don't leave me!'

'I am here soldier, report' said the General as he raised his left hand and brought it close to the sightless warrior in an attempt to get his attention. As the General's hand made contact with the Major's shoulder, he felt nothing, as if he were touching empty air and the form of the Major blackened and melt into a pool of darkness which faded into nothingness.

'I cannot see… I cannot see the light' whispered the Major's voice which was heard all around the General.

For a warrior who had spent much of his life serving the Covenant Empire, there was almost nothing which could cause the General's resolve to shatter but this… this darkness was enough to cause cracks in his courage. Did the mist have some sort of chemical agents in the air he thought? Some hallucinogen which was affecting him? No, he thought, this was something else, something which was just unnatural.

More voices echoed around the General as he saw the forms of Elites and Grunts, each one calling to one another yet none heard their comrades. Their eyes were dripping pools of pure darkness and as soon as they appeared, their bodies melted and left not a trace. A cacophony of begging and pleading surrounded him as an incessant wailing began to be heard and it increased in volume.

The General felt his very sanity begin to fray as he looked down to see dark, wriggling, things begin to cover the plates of his greaves. Daggers of pain flashed through his legs as the tendrils of darkness dug into his armor and flesh while climbing further upwards. Roaring with both pain and fear, the General slashed at the darkness and for a moment it seemed that it was repelled by the light of his plasma sword and hoped flared up in his heart.

The wailing grew louder and louder to the point that he feared becoming deaf, as patches of darkness began to consume his vision. 'Do you not see?' A voice whispered as the General attempted to sprint and run away 'can you not see?'

The Sangheili General screamed in horror as his mind finally broke from this unnatural fog and the choir of wailing voices. And so the General ran, he ran faster than he would have thought possible until the muscles of his legs burned with searing agony and the pain was intensified as more of the dark things bit into his flesh. The light! He needed the light! He thought with desperation and at the edge of his vision he saw the familiar blue shaft of illumination from a search light.

Running towards the light and desperately calling for help, the General saw that it was becoming brighter and the fog began to lessen. With a single might leap, the Elite General hurled himself forwards but something snagged his feet and caused him to fall face first into the ground. Landing with loud grunt, the Elite looked to his feet with terror and he saw thick black tendrils holding on to him.

'You cannot escape it' came a voice next to him and the General looked up to see another black-eyed Sangheili Major. 'It will not let you leave… you cannot escape it…' said the Major and soon all the General saw, was utter darkness.

* * *

><p>The strange fog dissipated from the Zone of Operations as several squads of Elites Spec Ops warriors waited and watched. The leader of the Spec Ops troops raised his left hand and made a series of gestures, signaling for the rest to advance. The other Spec Ops Elites obeyed and commenced their search for whatever the anomaly was.<p>

After several minutes of thoroughly searching the area, the Elites found only the bodies of several of their kin as well as dead Grunts. Many were killed by human slug throwing weapons but others had also borne the telltale signs of plasma burns, no doubt the Demon had stolen the weapons of the fallen and used it against their comrades. Of the Demon itself though, the Elites found not even the body of a single human, only the discarded remains of their emptied weapons.

With alarm, the Spec Ops Elites continued to search the area, wary of any ambushes from the last possible Demon but in the end, nothing happened. With their continued search, they found bodies of which had their throats torn out and their bodies ripped to shreds in such a savage manner that it seemed impossible that such a barbarous act would have been committed by the Demon. Of the General who had been in charge of this operation, they found not a trace of the officer.

It was as if the General, along with dozens of other Elites and Grunts had just vanished into thin air. The Spec Ops Elites became deeply unnerved by what they had seen or more appropriately, what they could not. The Spec Ops Elites were then ordered to stand guard and cordon off the area as a group of Engineers equipped with advanced scanners were now in-bound to take another reading.

As the Spec Ops Elites stood guard, some had nervously sworn that they heard voices, wailing at the edge of hearing.

* * *

><p>Suddenly opening his eyes with a loud gasp, Noble Six saw only darkness as the pain of his wounds flared up. There was no light here, nothing which would allow him to see through the pitch blackness and it was taking time for his enhanced eyes to adjust. Mentally cursing for not having a flashlight integrated into his armor, he felt cool air kiss his skin and a breeze to his right.<p>

He remembered the desperate battle as several aliens surrounded him and then he remembered seeing the black furred wolf which tore out the throats of the Elites. How did he get here? He thought where was he? As these questions swirled within his brain, upon the breeze he picked up a coppery smell he knew was blood, human blood. Reaching for his combat knife, he felt somewhat relieved to know that it was still there as his gauntleted fingers wrapped around the grip.

His eyes soon adjusted just enough to make a bare outline of wherever he was; he believed that he was in a cave, much like the one he had taken on the way to Aszod. The steps of his boots caused a loud echo across the cavern and after another step; he felt a great weight which caused him to collapse. More pain exploded across his face as he struck the floor of the cave, great, just great he thought rather caustically as his MJOLNIR powered assault armor had just malfunctioned.

Struggling with the power armor's weight, the Spartan managed to push himself off and roll over so that he could lie on his back. For several minutes, he struggled with the process of removing the armor by hand and without any assistance. Eventually, he succeeded in freeing himself from the MJOLNIR, its titanium plates clattered noisily within the cave and he rose back up to his feet, exhausted and still in pain from the plasma shots he had taken, he hoped that he could find a med-kit or med-gel somewhere.

Now clad only in the skin suit beneath his armor, Noble Six felt weakened and vulnerable without the MJOLNIR's protection. Retrieving his knife which he had set aside, the Spartan proceeded to follow the direction of the breeze which carried the coppery smell. He found himself to be scaling up a slight incline for what seemed to be an eternity and soon he saw the faintest traces of light from the twin moons of Reach.

Cautiously moving further to the light, the Spartan stepped on something hard and solid, he looked down and his blood chilled. It was another Spartan, one of the fallen comrades he had seen during his last stand. Noble Six could not see the face of the dead Spartan but he instinctively knew who it was inside, were he a religious man, Noble Six would have offered a prayer to his fallen brother.

The dead Spartan was not alone here for immediately, Noble Six found the bodies of several others, all of whom he recognized from the previous battles across Reach. What had brought them here? He thought with worry for a Spartan in full regalia was not exactly easy to carry around, for each could weigh a ton or more. Searching the bodies of his fallen brethren, Noble Six cursed again for he had not found a single gun among them, only combat knives.

With a quiet promise, he vowed to give them all a proper burial when he could, something which he wished that he could have done for his squad. Taking as many knives as he could and tying the sheathes together to form a brace, Noble Six intended to use them as throwing weapons until he could find gun. As he ascended from the cave, the Spartan heard a series of snarls and grunts which were accompanied not by the smell of a wild animal, but oddly, that of cinnamon which was mixed with the blood of both human and alien.

Curious at this, the Spartan cautiously moved further up, with his heart beating loudly under his chest and soon he saw the wolf. The black furred beast was savagely biting the neck of a slain Army soldier, the bodies of other soldiers laid strewn about like discarded chunks of meat in a butcher's shop, their throats savagely torn out. The Spartan stood still for a moment; he held his breath and quietly slipped out one of the knives he had acquired earlier.

The wolf then turned its gaze towards him and he saw its obsidian eyes watching him with anticipation. For a moment, Noble Six remained there, he wanted to hurl his knife at it but found his hand refusing to obey while tightly holding on to the grip. The wolf then pawed its way closer to him and the Spartan tried to get back but he found that the rest of his body was also refusing to budge, the eyes he suddenly realized! There was something mesmerizing about the wolf's eyes.

Gritting his teeth as sweat began to bead around his forehead, Noble Six focused all of his mental strength into trying to resist its gaze and after a titanic struggle he managed to look away. The wolf then leapt toward him with a savage bark, the Spartan swiftly hurled a knife at it and as the blade was about to strike, the wolf suddenly evaporated into cloud of pure darkness. His eyes widened with surprise and disbelief and some instinct within told him that it was behind him.

Turning around, Noble Six saw the wolf leap out from the darkness its slavering maw was stained with blood as its paws reached towards him. Swiftly bringing out another knife and thrusting it towards the beast's head, he heard the sound of bones snapping beneath the skin of the wolf as clumps of fur fell off of its body. In less than even a heartbeat, Noble Six suddenly felt a strong grip around his neck as his knife struck against hardened metal, the blade shattered and the breath was knocked out of his lungs as he was slammed into the wall of the cavern.

Struggling for air, he felt the grip tighten and black patches began to fill his vision, the pressure around his neck then loosened and he dropped to the ground with his knees landing on the stones. He greedily gulped down mouthfuls of air and he briefly looked up to see what had attacked him. The sight which he saw next simply stunned the Spartan for it was again, something he never would have expected.

A ghastly, pale skinned woman with deep black, braided hair was looking down up at him, her mouth and chin were coated in red blood while her eyes bore the same obsidian color as that of the wolf's and despite the sheer impossibility of it, Noble Six believed the woman and wolf were one in the same. She was garbed in a bizarre set apparel which was a cross of what looked like one part a 16th century period dress of deep crimson, almost black with a high collar which ended in steel tipped spikes and the other part looked like a suit of lacquered armor which was chased with a golden filigree of rose thorns which glowed brightly, despite no known power source.

'_Essaie encore et je vais régaler de votre cœur, chevalier_' hissed the woman threateningly in what he was pretty sure was French. Her hands were covered in a seemingly baroque set of gauntlets which ended in talon-like claws and in her left hand, he saw an equally baroque, wavy sword of blackened metal which was etched with what looked to be Egyptian Hieroglyphs but the sword glowed with an emerald-green energy field which sent chills up his spines as he looked at them.

'_Dites-moi où je suis et je ne vais pas vous tuer_' she then said with equal hostility.

'I have no idea what you are saying' croaked the Spartan as he was forced to remain in place, his mind began running scenarios on his options on how to get the upper hand on this unnaturally strong and nightmarish woman.

'_Vous portez le symbole Le Breton, n'êtes-vous pas un chevalier de Bretonnia_?' asked the woman in French again with a bit of confusion added into her tone.

The Spartan slowly stood up but made no motion to attack the woman, he tried to avoid making eye contact with her as he noticed that her gaze still carried a hypnotic quality to it. He still had his brace of combat knives to defend himself but there was something at the back of his head which was telling him that if he were to attack, it would be the last mistake he would make. And so the Spartan waited, reading the strange woman's body language to the best of his abilities while tensing his muscles to ready into action, he quickly noticed that she was much shorter than he was, perhaps even a bit shorter than the average, un-augmented human woman of Caucasian descent.

'_Comprenez-vous encore un mot que je dis?_' she then asked with frustration and then speaking again '_Können Sie mich verstehen?_'

Was that German he thought with surprise and a desperate idea came into his mind, clearing his throat, Noble Six then slowly but calmly spoke in what Hungarian he knew.

'_Can you understand me?'_ He slowly asked while using the language many people on Reach spoke, Jorge had taught some of it to him during downtime between missions but he had never had the opportunity to really use it.

The woman paused for a moment, studying his words and she then nodded and began to cautiously speak in a similar sounding language '_yes, I understand you.'_

'_Who… what are you?' _asked Noble Six warily as several questions buzzed within his brain.

'_I asked first, knight'_ the woman replied coldly. '_First, let us put away our weapons and be civil about this'_ added the woman '_answer my questions first and then I will answer yours.'_

'_I… Agree_' The Spartan then said as he somewhat struggled with the words '_what you ask?_'.

'_Where are we? what is this place?_' questioned the dark armored woman.

_'This is world, Reach, inside Epsilon Eridani' _replied the Spartan.

'_Reach? Epsilon… Eridani?_' she then said with confusion while forming words which were clearly unfamiliar to her. '_We are not in the New World of Lustria?' _she then asked, and the Spartan shook his head for he had never heard of a planet called Lustria.

A thoughtful moment passed the woman's features which were still coated in red blood as she hesitantly sheathed her sword and the Spartan likewise was hesitant not to just pull out one of his combat knives. The woman quietly muttered something in what seemed to be German and her eyes widened as she began to pat herself down as if she were missing something. He kept hearing the word '_Scheiße_' being repeatedly spoken as she began to become desperate in her search.

She then suddenly stopped as a look of realization came upon her face and she muttered something again in German which he did not catch.

'_What is it_?' asked Noble Six who was unsure if he should take advantage of her distraction or not.

'_Gone!_' The woman replied with eyes widened disbelief as she looked to him '_the Key is gone_!'

'_What Key? What you talk about?_' the Spartan then said as the situation was just growing weirder and weirder by the moment.

The woman's eyes suddenly widened as a look of realization came across her face; she then muttered something which the Spartan made out as '_der Hügel_'

'_The what_?' asked the Spartan with confusion and before his eyes, he saw the woman's skin begin to sprout black glossy black feathers as glassy orbs of dark eyes opened up around her skin.

His lower jaw suddenly dropped at this unnatural sight, the woman's form began to break apart and in its place, he saw black birds from Earth he recognized ravens. In the next moment, the flock of ravens flew outside of the cave and they disappeared into the darkness of the night with Noble Six being left alone at the cave's mouth and completely left speechless by what he had just seen.

* * *

><p>Watching as the scanner equipped Hurgaroks went about their work while occasionally creating a series of whistling sounds; a Spec Ops Elite who had been posted in area was forced to stifle a yawn as he patrolled continued his patrol For a few hours now, they had been guarding the area with nothing happening at all. The bodies of their fallen had been recovered and sent back to The Vigil of Remembrance so that they can be stored and later returned to their families with posthumous honors.<p>

There had been something unusual and unnerving about the area at first but after a while, whatever it was had faded away and leaving only a silence as the winds blew. Some of the other Spec Ops members had darkly muttered about the place being cursed and their officers had dismissed it as of being mere superstitions. The Elite himself though was inclined to agree for it just was not normal for several squads to disappear without a trace, especially within an area which had been heavily monitored by their ship's sensors as well as the very eyes of several warriors.

Looking up to the dark, cloudy sky, where trio of Phantom Dropships hovered above them the Elite privately wondered why they would even need such security. The humans on this planet have already been defeated and their cities were already being glassed into oblivion. He wondered what sort of operation he would be part of next for the Spec Ops soldier had recently taken part in the destruction of a human military facility.

Continuing his patrol, the Elite stepped on something which felt solid and hard. Likely just a piece of debris he thought with disinterest as he glanced down and saw something shiny which caught his eye. Curious at what it was, the Spec Ops Elite bent down to see what it was and he studied it, tilting his head, the Elite picked up the object which was cool to touch and he held it up to the night sky.

It was strange, solid piece of silvery metal with small spikes extending from the sides and two small horns at the top. As he studied it, the Elite began to notice that the shape actually seemed, insect-like in appearance, what was most intriguing though was a series of tiny strange glyphs which were etched upon its silvery surface and at the center of the object, he saw a small crystalline sphere which generated a brilliant white light which was actually rather beautiful to look upon.

'What is that you found there?' came the voice of another Spec Ops Sangheili and the Spec Ops Elite broke his reverie.

'I do not know' shrugged the Spec Ops soldier 'it's not human-made I think'. The other Spec Ops Sangheili drew closer and the Elite handed the silver object to his comrade.

The other Sangheili studied it for a moment and asked him 'do you think this is what we are looking for?'

'We should have the Engineers take a look at it' suggested the Spec Ops Elite and he began to call to one of the Hurgaroks.

The Engineer created a whistling sound as it floated towards them and the Spec Ops Sangheili offered the object to the Engineer who began to make a series of excited sounds as its tentacle gently wrapped around the silvery item. Soon, several more Hurgaroks began to gather around the one which held the silvery object, they each began to make excited sounds and soon they ascended up to the Phantoms.

'Well that is something' said the other Sangheili a bit puzzled 'Do you think that we will get a reward for that?'

'I hope so' shrugged the Spec Ops Elite who couldn't quite stop thinking about the strange object he had found.

Unknown to the squadron of Spec Ops Elites, a series of black feathered, avian creatures watched the whole exchange in silence as they perched themselves atop the ruins of the human structures. Several pairs of eyes looked up to the Phantom of which the Engineers hovered upwards and the flock took wing with the intent of murder within each of the glittering black orbs.


	3. Chapter 3

Nodding in satisfaction as the last of the Hurgarok Surveyors boarded the Phantom, a silver armored Sangheili Ranger quickly called to the pilot, informing him that they should be ready to go back into orbit. As the pilot responded, the Ranger heard flapping sounds and to his surprise, he saw several black feathered avian creatures fly into the dropship from the loading ramp which was still open. Several of the avian life-forms blocked the vision of his visor and the Elite swung his right arm about while attempting to swat away the feathered nuisances.

The creatures loudly cawed as they did not relent and the Ranger heard the pilot calling out, asking what was going on while the Engineers made a series of high pitched sounds which he believed was indicative of fear. Finally striking one of the things, he heard the flock suddenly give out a loud unified screech of pain which sounded almost like that of a human's. The Ranger suddenly saw the avian creatures converge to a single position and much to his surprise, instead of seeing them collide into one another, it looked as if their bodies... melted and formed into a single mass of blackness.

Unnerved by this unnatural sight and not knowing what it was, the Ranger quickly brought up his needle rifle and as he was about to fire, something leapt out from the black mass. Before the Sangheili knew it, a black blade which was etched with emerald green sigils punched through the visor of his helmet and creating a sharp _tink _sound as the Elite was stabbed in the face. The Engineers began to chirp in terror as that which had killed their guard turned its shadowy eyes on them with sharpened fangs exposed.

* * *

><p>Searching amongst the bodies of the fallen army soldiers, Noble Six was relieved to finally find a gun. Holding up a well maintained magnum which he had acquired from a soldier whose dog tag read, R. Banks, the Spartan quietly paid his respects to the dead man, just another name and face to remember as he promised vengeance against the Covenant. He did his best not to look at the savage gash where the man's throat had been and he concentrated on removing the ammo clip from the pistol and inspecting it, he was a glad that at the least, there were still seven rounds lefts.<p>

Placing the clip back into the handgun and hearing a satisfying click, he pulled back the slider and flipped the safety off. One bullet was all he needed thought the Spartan, it would just be a matter of finding the right time and the right place. It would not be the first time that he would find himself behind enemy lines and relying on the use of Covenant weaponry to get by, unfortunately though, the lack of a properly working MJOLNIR presented a new problem for him.

For a moment Six considered his current options, he could try to find a Covenant outpost or camp and from there, attempt to hijack a ship and try to make it back to Earth. The option of staying on the planet and just killing every alien he sees was also tempting but it would likely prove to be short-lived for the Covenant would no doubt start glassing large sections of Reach. One thing for sure though was that he wasn't going to stay in this cave for long, especially with the possibility of that woman coming back.

Still quite unnerved by what he had just seen, it was simply impossible for anyone to just… transform into a flock of ravens and earlier, the wolf. Maybe he had hallucinated the whole thing he thought, maybe he had inhaled some sort of gas within the cave or that the woman had access to some advance form holographic technology to create the flock and yet, he had seen the feathers and fur which had been left behind. At back of his mind, Noble Six began to recall some old films he had once seen as a child before his life in the Spartan Program but he quickly dismissed these thoughts at the sheer absurdity of it.

The idea of checking the fallen Spartans at the back of the cave had crossed his mind, for surely one of them would have a still working suit of MJOLNIR armor but it quickly became an uncomfortable one. It seemed just wrong to take the armor off of one of his brothers and sisters for many of them felt that it was as much a part of them as their own limbs or hearts, there was also that fact their armor may not properly fit him as well. He had also thought about attempting to scavenging parts from the other suits of power armor but Noble Six was had not exactly been trained as an engineer and since he had no access to any proper tools, repairing his suit was simply well beyond him.

With a sigh, the Spartan decided to make do with what he had at the moment for if people like the ODST can do their job without the need of high-tech suits of armor then so could he. Slowly rising up with the several bodies which all had their throats torn out post-mortem around him, he did his best to his revulsion and yet there was another unusual thing which the Spartan noticed.

Where was their blood? He thought for none of the bodies had left any blood stains and even with his superior senses, he could barely smell any on them. It was as if each of the bodies had been completely exsanguinated and yet, why were the bodies of the other Spartans left mostly untouched? More questions filled the thoughts of Noble Six whose unease further increased as he racked his brain in trying to find some sort of explanation.

Again, his mind began to recall and cite examples from old myths and popular media but the rational part of him refused to believe in the possibility of what he thought could not even be remotely true. Surely there must be some sort of explanation? Some logical, scientific explanation on what he had just encountered. Feeling that his very sanity might break from the strain, the Spartan decided to drop the matter for now and focus on survival.

Quickly making his way out of the cave with only his skin suit, a makeshift brace to carry several combat knives and a single pistol with seven rounds, the Spartan felt oddly calm and collected about the situation. His mind quickly eased back into the state of the hunter, the lone wolf. This was what he was trained for, what he was made, he would find the enemy and he would keep on fighting them until his last breath.

* * *

><p>Looking up to the night sky and noticing that the Phantom which had carried the Engineers was still there, a Spec Ops Elite was curious as of why it had not taken off into orbit. His squad's Commanding Officer was hailing the Phantom's pilot and asking for their status but all they received was silence. Was there some sort of malfunction with the drop ship? If so, shouldn't the Engineers already be fixing it? The Spec Ops Elite began to feel a sense have a sense of caution and wariness, the kind that felt similar to the waiting before battle.<p>

The officer hailed the phantom again and immediately, the entire group became uneasy for the same thing had happened to the ground teams sent to slay the demon.

'Over there!' shouted one of the other Sangheili and the Spec Ops Elite caught a glimpse of something shiny falling from it. Switching to night vision and using the zoom in function of his helmet's visor, it took him a moment to study the falling object but he quickly realized in disbelief that it was the severed head of another Sangheili.

'How in the Prophet's name did that happen!?' cried one of his comrades and the Elite felt the same way.

'Destroy that Phantom now!' roared their officer and the Spec Ops Team looked to their leader with momentary surprise before years of discipline and military training kicked in. It was likely that something got on board; most likely, the Demon and was now attempting to hijack the dropship. If that were the case of course then they could not allow the Demon to leave this planet and wreak further havoc.

A massed volley of energy weapons fire soon burst out from the Spec Ops Team with plasma weapons, concussion rifles, Fuel Rod Cannons and Plasma Launchers. The heavier weapons had of course done the most damage and the drop ship was literally knocked out of the sky as an explosion rocked it from the side. The Phantom fell for a moment as massive holes had been punched into its hull, exposing mechanical parts and electrical wiring before it exploded in a bright ball of blue energy which lighted up the night.

A shower of debris landed upon the surface with none of the larger pieces landing near them. Orders were called out to search the wreckage and the Spec Ops team obeyed their Officer. As the Spec Ops Elite took a step forward, he noticed a slight cloud of mist at the corner of his vision and there was something about it which made his skin crawl.

* * *

><p>Noticing the bright flash of blue light in the distance, Noble Six recognized that it was the explosion of a Covenant drop ship. For a moment, he wondered if that woman had something to do with it and guessed that it was likely, but what if it was not her but perhaps a remnant group of human soldiers? Quickly picking up his pace across the dusty plane near the ship breaking yard, the Spartan was desperate know if he truly was the only UNSC survivor around.<p>

It did not take long for the Spartan to traverse the terrain and soon he began to realize that he was heading to the same spot where he had made his last stand. Eventually slowing his pace and crouching low, Noble Six noticed the heavy footsteps of Elites as they searched among pieces of metallic debris. Drawing one of his knives, the Spartan kept to the shadows while creeping closer towards one of the aliens. Steadying his breath as his heart began to pound more forcefully, Noble Six then rushed forwards while reversing his grip on the knife.

Before the alien even knew it, the Spartan slashed the lower back of the Elite with a horizontal strike to his right and he quickly brought the blade back up to stab it in the neck. Blue blood spattered the sleeve of his skin suit as the Spartan was forced to apply more pressure into his strike for he had not the extra strength added by power armor. The Elite made a gurgling sound as blood likely bubbled up from its mouth and before it dropped to the ground, the Spartan quickly grabbed the plasma rifle it had carried.

The voice of an Elite called out to the Spartan's direction and he knew that it was meant for the one he had just killed. Going low and moving away from the body as quickly and quietly as he could, Noble Six moved behind a particularly large piece of wreckage and he lay there for a moment as he listened for the footsteps of the aliens. As the same voice called out again, Noble Six squinted his eyes and tried to search through the darkness to find the alien.

Quickly noticing the brief glint of light from its armor, the Spartan quickly shifted his hold on the knife and was soon carrying it by the tip between his fingers. As he was about to throw it, the Spartan suddenly heard a loud shout of surprise from another Elite which was quickly followed by the squeal of metal and the crunching of bone.

Bright flashes of plasma fire lit up the night air as the aliens began to open fire upon their attacker and very briefly, did Noble Six catch a glimpse of that woman again who instantly emerged from the shadows of the night. One of the first things the Spartan noticed to his astonishment was that the dark armored woman was extremely fast, faster than he had thought possible back in the cave as her black bladed sword which was etched with the glowing hieroglyphs was carving up the armor, shields and flesh of the aliens as if it were mere paper.

Noticing the movements of a stealthed Elite which glowed with the light of a plasma sword, he saw that the alien was charging at the woman from behind. Unsure and highly conflicted as of whether he should be helping the woman or not, Noble Six saw the alien de-cloak and swiftly lunge at the woman with a deadly uppercut strike. To his surprise, the woman swiftly turned around and she actually brought her sword up in time to parry the plasma sword while her own glowed even more brightly.

The woman then countered with a left handed uppercut of her own and the Spartan saw her hand punch right through under section of the Elite's helmet and she tore something out which caused the alien to scream in agony as blood gushed out from its wound. Its screams were short lived though for the woman ended its misery by stabbing the Elite in the gut and driving the blade up to its chest where the alien was briefly even lifted up. The woman quickly then kicked the Elite off of her sword as the others continued to fire at her with each shot hitting only air as the woman was already on the move again.

Once more, Noble Six was struck by the sheer impossibility of what he was witnessing as this strange woman was practically slaughtering the Elites which he recognized as of being part of a Special Forces Unit. Alien bodies fell to the ground, all did so while bleeding copious amounts of blood while limbs and heads went flying. Eventually the Spartan managed to catch of glimpse of what the woman had held in her other hand and he saw that it was the bloody mandibles of the sword wielding Elite.

* * *

><p>Standing aboard the bridge of The Vigil, the Shipmaster listened to the garbled reports from the Spec Ops Team on the ground. First there was the destruction of the Phantom which had carried the Hurgarok survey team, the pilot had reported the sound of fighting within the dropship and then was silent after being hailed. The Ship Master mandibles tightened as he contemplated the idea of just glassing the surface and the only thing that had stopped him was the report which came in about something of value being found by the survey team.<p>

Again, the Shipmaster wondered if it may be a holy artifact of sorts from the Forerunner facility under the ice caps. Quickly opening up the channel to the ships public announcement speakers, he ordered the troops to prepare for drops and landings. As the channel closed, it took less than thirty seconds for the first reports of drop pods being launched to come in.

'Shipmaster!' came the voice of a Communications Officer and the Sangheili turned his gaze to one of his underlings who was busily operating a console. 'Our sensors have picked up another energy spike' said the officer who then began sending coordinates to the Ship Master's own console and he saw that the anomaly came from a location which was several miles away from where the Operational Zone was.

'Re-direct four Phantoms to that location' ordered the Shipmaster who was no longer planning to take any chances. Too many strange happenings have been occurring within such a short period of time and the Shipmaster wanted to know just what exactly was going on down on the planet. As he watched several of the dropships descend upon the planet, the Ship Master eagerly awaited to see the next developments of the current situation.

* * *

><p>Watching as the last of the Elites was cut down by the black sword, Noble Six was simply stunned at the sheer destruction which the dark armored woman had wrought. The plates which protected her were glowing with green hieroglyphs across its surface like the ones he had seen on the sword and he could have sworn that plasma bolts had actually struck her and yet she had been able to shrug it off. Could she have some sort of energy shield? He thought, was the woman some sort of superhuman like he was or simply hopped up on something like the Rumbledrugs used by the Insurrectionists?<p>

He had seen other Spartans deal that sort of damage in close quarters engagements before but of course there was the fact that they were enhanced super humans who wore suits of powered armor which gave them even greater strength, speed and toughness. Again, the Spartan was in disbelief at the abilities which this woman possessed and that part of him which contained his survival instinct told him to get as far away from her as possible. Turning around and slowly sneaking away while trying to keep low, he noticed the distinct sound of a heavy drop pod and he looked up to see the three engines fired up to slow its landing.

Leaping to the side and avoiding being crushed by the transport, he hid within a patch of tall grass while quickly pulling out both the plasma rifle and his magnum. Watching the pod to see what may come out, he was somewhat hopeful about the chance of being able to "acquire" something good like a needle rifle. The three doors of the drops pods slid up to reveal the energy barriers which protected its occupants and he saw a pack of Jackal Skirmisher step out with each one armed with plasma pistols or needlers. Not what he needed he thought as he kept his distance and the aliens thankfully did not notice him as they moved towards where he had last seen the woman.

If there was one pod… he thought as he suddenly looked up and saw other pods descending from the sky. Muttering a curse at the sight of several more alien reinforcements, Noble Six knew that he should not stick around for long. Wishing that he had a DMR or a sniper rifle, he was not as keen with the idea of trying to engage the Covenant in close quarters without the protection of his MJOLNIR armor.

Looking at his pistol though, he thought that perhaps he wouldn't need a DMR after all. Patience he thought to himself, for a hunter who had patience would always find their prey.

* * *

><p>Looking up to the strange, night sky which lacked the twin moons of Morrslieb and Mannslieb, the Vampire Countess noticed the several falling metal, egg-like contraptions which fell from the heavens. What manner of strange machines were these she had thought which could create blazes of pale blue fire that could slow the fall of something so large and surely heavy as well. Within each of the metal eggs, she could see the heart-fires of several more of the monsters which carried those strange weapons of searing light.<p>

Hissing a curse in her native tongue for she had almost managed to reclaim The Key from those floating tentacle creatures and it had been unexpected that one of them had simply just thrown it off of the flying machine. Finding it would be difficult now, especially with more enemies about, a situation which could only be rectified in one way. Tightening her grip upon the sword which had served her well for so many centuries, the Vampire Countess felt the comforting glow of the relic which she greatly prized.

Placed into a small leather satchel of tanned orc-hide was a dark green orb which was covered with a protective layer of ensorcelled bone and the visible crystalline section glowed with _Dhar_. The Mortis Cage it was called was one of five devices created by a mad Tilean Necrarch of whom the Countess considered a close ally at best. Removing orb which was no bigger than her own fist, this particular Mortis Cage was protected by the bones of warlocks and sorcerers who had once served Tzeentch, the Chaos God of Change and sorcery.

Drawing upon the power within the Mortis Cage, she heard the agonized wails of the souls which had been trapped by the orb and from their pain; she was infused with the energy needed to fuel her spells for this world was devoid of the Winds. Whispering in the ancient tongue of Nehekhara's long dead nobility, the Vampire Countess poured her dread will into the corpses of the creatures she had slain and soon their eyes were filled with a green balefires as they awakened from the eternal slumber. Each of the newly risen creatures became extensions of her will and as they got back up to their feet, she gave them a single command, kill.

Her minions silently obeyed as they slowly lurched towards the living ones which had already arrived and were swiftly moving towards her position. The Beast Within howled and called for further carnage against these creatures whose blood tasted as foul as those of greenskins and the Countess found herself being quite agreeable with its desires but found that such a thing was unnecessary. All she needed to do was to distract them long enough with her minions and then focus on finding The Key herself.

Whispering words of power once more while further drawing energy from the Mortis Cage, the Vampire Countess instantly wreathed herself in a cloak of shadows which would conceal her from mortal sight and soon she disappeared, leaving no trace but minions she had reanimated.

* * *

><p><strong>Elsewhere…<strong>

Large, round eyes stared into vastness of the cold void of the heavens where countless worlds, each a mass of stone, metals, gases and liquids formed the endless landscapes of environs and climes which could support or deny the existence of living beings. On some of these worlds, life flourished where alien ecologies evolved while in others, there was nothing but desolation and stillness. For some of the latter, the former had once been true but whether by cosmic mishap, tectonic instability or by the deeds of its own inhabitants, life had ceased to be.

Such was the way of things for the cosmos was a cold and uncaring place, at best. If indeed the universe had a consciousness of its own, then it would be a spiteful and malevolent sentience for what cruel mind would have created, that which was known only as Chaos. And as an added factor, there was also the existence of beings like the one who sought to bring the entire world into the ultimate state of Order, to make the very planet a place of stillness, free of the disorder caused by life itself.

Thoughts like these occupied the mind of Quetzotac, Slaan Mage-Priest of Cuahtan, the Temple of Ancients. For many long eons has Quetzotac studied and meditated upon the artifacts and devices left behind by their creators, the Old Ones. When the Children of the Firebird came in what was a mere few centuries ago, the Mage-Priest had allowed them leave unharmed for he had seen their fate-lines and the ruin they would bring among those who opposed the plan of the Old Ones. And yet now, here he was, contemplating upon whether his judgment at the time had been impaired and what would be the cost of his miscalculation.

Through the lines of fate, Quetzotac had singled out the thread of the one who flew upon wings of the storm. Much to the surprise of the Mage-Priest, the deeds of this single individual whom he had deemed was necessary to live, would ripple across the complex tapestry that was fate itself and it lead to the fate of one whose very existence was a blight upon that tapestry. A being in particular whose fate was erratic and unpredictable to even one such as Quetzotac who was well versed in matters of divination.

Five armies now clashed over Cuahtan, each seeking to steal away the relics of the Old Ones. One had come from the cold north with bloodied hands, another had come from the dark bellow in diseased swarms, the third sought only to spread further ruin in the name of Four. The army which sought to defend the Temple still did so with their blood now mingling with the rivers shed by the invaders.

And yet the army which proved the most troublesome this day was that composed entirely of beings which by all rights should be nothing more than further nourishment for the earth. The progeny of the one which the hated dwellers bellow called, _Kreeqar-gan_ were the most successful in breaching the defenses of Temple. Already, one of them had succeeded in stealing an artifact left behind by the Old Ones and by some mishap, it had activated.

The loss of the artifact had greatly disturbed Quetzotac and he knew that it must be retrieved , regardless of the cost. But first there was the current battle to win for there were so many more artifacts which could not fall into the wrongs hands. Once the invaders have been crushed and the Temple cleansed, Quetzotac would begin organizing the retrieval of the artifact and the destruction of the one who had dared to steal it.


	4. Chapter 4

Now operating a Phantom dropship, a Sangheili pilot curiously wondered exactly what was going on upon the surface of the planet they had just conquered from the humans. The first squad he had transported earlier aboard a Spirit had according to the reports, all been massacred. What was especially also disturbing was that he had overheard mention of a Phantom transporting an Engineer survey team having just been destroyed over the area where the Demon had been spotted.

Now the Pilot was transporting another squad towards a different area where another anomaly of sorts had been picked up by the Vigil's sensors. Once more, the pilot was glad that his role in a warzone primarily involved ferrying troops from orbit towards the battlefield and providing air support. He was also somewhat comforted by the fact that there were three other Phantoms accompanying his own, each carrying squadrons composed of Grunts, Jackals, a pair of Hunters and fellow Elites to lead them all.

Whatever the warriors might encounter down there, it certainly would not be able to stand much of a chance against the righteous might of their Covenant. As the Phantoms flew closer to the designated landing zone, the pilot heard the communications channel beeping and upon the holographic display of the control console, he saw that a message was being broadcasted. Opening up the channel, he heard the voice of one of the communications officer aboard the Vigil.

'All units' came the words of a fellow Sangheili 'be advised that a secondary energy spike has been detected in the target zone, Command has ordered an aerial observation first before landing.'

The Pilot acknowledged the command along with his fellows operating the Phantoms and he placed his hands upon the holo-graphic console and activated the dropships sensors. By the time the Phantoms arrived over the landing site, the four dropships maintained a low altitude as searchlights scanned the surface where a thick cloud of dust obscured their vision. Diverting more power to the sensors, he saw the motion tracker pick up movement which appeared as red dots.

'Multiple life-forms detected on the surface!' came the voice of a fellow Phantom pilot over the communications channel.

'I can't get a clear image!' said another as the Pilot then activated the visual feed and all he saw was the dust cloud and several dark shapes moving below it. A flash of green light was seen below and the sensors began picking up a separate energy spike.

'Evasive maneuvers!' shouted another pilot before a bright bolt of emerald green energy shot upwards and it struck the underside of one of the other Phantoms, causing a loud explosion of multi-colored energy which was followed by a barrage of solid slugs which were aimed at them.

'Should we abort the mission!?' called the Pilot as he contacted the Vigil.

'Negative' answered the communications officer from earlier 'drop infantry squadrons to the southwest, we will be sending reinforcements via drop pods.'

The pilots confirmed their orders as the landing zone was changed and they turned their dropships around as projectile fire from below tore through the hull. By the Prophets, mentally thought the Pilot as his pulse began to increase, did they just arrive by an Anti-Air battery?

A loud explosion was heard from outside and the Pilot lost contact with one of the Phantoms and the Grunts he ferried yelped in terror. His dropship's operating then displayed on the side that the transport craft and had several breaches in the hull. Immediately powering down the sensors and routing the power to the thrusters, the Pilot felt he was on the brink of panicking before finally, his Phantom got clear from the Anti-Air fire.

The other Phantoms reported of damage as well with some passengers being slain by whatever was hitting them. Relieved to arrive at the new landing site where the display of his Phantom also showed the path which the drop pods would be descending, he then set his dropship down to allow the crew to disembark. Wishing the warriors fortune and a good hunting, he was glad yet again that his job was that of a pilot.

* * *

><p>Landing upon the rocky surface of the planet which the humans called Reach, an Elite Major armed with a Plasma Repeater began making a series of hand signals, ordering the Grunts and Jackals that accompanied him to spread out. They fought in a standard formation with both groups mostly being armed with plasma pistols, Needlers and a few Plasma Rifles. From above, he heard the distinct sound of drop pod engines descending from orbit and they landed not far from them.<p>

Much to the disdain of the Elite Major, he saw several Brutes armed with Spikers and Concussion Rifles disembark from the drop pods. The Brutes leaders began barking orders to their fellows and the hairy beasts began converging upon the positions of the troops who had arrived by Phantoms. The Grunts made fearful sounds as the Brutes joined up with them and the Major noted the disdainful looks which their "allies" gave to both himself and his fellow Sangheili.

'All units advance' came the voice of a communications officer aboard the Vigil and the squads of Covenant Infantry obeyed.

Maintaining a loose formation with the member each squad within the sights of at least three other groups, they cautiously moved towards the area where they had been shot at. Visibility was poor due to the planet's night cycle along with the dust cloud that had appeared and the Elite Major was forced to rely on the motion tracker set in the lower left of his helmet's HUD. For several long minutes, they moved ahead with all eyes cautiously searching around and the squads reported an all clear.

Taking another step forward, the Elite Major heard a loud series of _pak-pak-pak_ sounds and the head of a Jackal to his left exploded in a shower of gore as a Grunt was also cut down along with another.

'Snipers!' shouted the Elite Major at the top of his lungs 'get to cover!'

Several of the Jackals moved up with shields raised and the Grunts took cover behind them. Plasma shots flew out in all directions as more of their troops were cut down by unseen snipers and he saw greenish orbs made from glass-like materials flying towards them. The orbs crashed near the feet of several squads, causing clouds of gas to explode from them which was followed by gagging sounds from those who inhaled it.

Covering his mouth, the Elite Major began to dash forward while holding his breath; he caught a glimpse of the Jackals in his squad clutching at their throats with blood bubbling up from their mouths and nostrils. Poison gas was the realization of the Elite Major as he got clear of the deadly cloud that killed more than a few jackals and some fellow Sangheili but the Grunts were far more fortunate due to the breathers which the latter ones wore. As he escaped the deadly gas cloud, he immediately noticed his motion tracker picking up multiple red dots in a 180 degree arc.

Taking a deep breath of the dusty air, he brought up his plasma repeater as he saw several dark shapes moving ahead of him. Bright blue bolts were launched from his gun and the Elite Major was rewarded with a loud, high pitched screech of agony. Puzzled by the sound of whatever he had shot, it definitely was not something a human would make when being struck.

With another step closer, his eyes widened underneath his helmet as his motion tracker then picked up even more hostile targets moving upon his position and something moved right past him to the left. Turning around with his repeater following him in a crushing sweep, felt nothing but air as something black moved past him and he felt an intense pain flare up from his spine as two blades punctured his flesh and he lost control of his lower body, causing him to fall face first to the ground as something kicked him in the back. He then began to hear a tittering sound which was followed by high pitched squeaks, chittering voices and rumbling upon the earth.

Gunfire followed as the survivors of the gas attack started shooting at whatever was coming and still on the HUD of his helmet, he saw a sea of red dots. Using his arms to try and get up, the Elite Major found it to be difficult due to the excruciating pain which he felt and his vision began to blur. As his sight began to fail him, what he saw though was enough to chill his blood.

Glittering pairs of red eyes could be seen within the cloud, each one attached to a five limbed, furry body of some unknown, alien creature which was dressed in rag-like clothing and primitive armor. Many of the creatures carried swords, spears and other primitive weapons with some even glowing with some energy field. But there were also larger things which he saw amongst them, great creatures that were even bigger than Hunters which loped and forward on muscular limbs.

The last thing which the Elite Major saw was a primitive blade that sent him into the afterlife.

* * *

><p>'Kill-slay! Kill-slay!' roared the voice of Skaven Warlord Kreetok Orc-flayer as he raised his halberd high and ordered his warriors to press the attack while seated upon the back of a Great Pox Rat.<p>

Watching the unfolding battle with great interest, Warlock Engineer Skittak Fang peered through a brass looking glass as he studied the enemy which they were fighting. Unknown things in strange armour and carrying weapons which fired bolts of searing light clashed against the swarm of Clanrats which were accompanied by Rat Ogres. His knowledge as a member of Clan Skyre told him that the weapons their new enemies carried were as mechanical as a Jezzail or a Dwarf-thing Gyrocopter, yet it was of a level of technology that far surpassed either for he had even seen their flying machines which seemed to be held aloft by fire alone.

Although still somewhat confused by what was going, all Skittak (and probably the others as well) could remember was that they had been fighting the Lizard-things inside one of their stone fortresses in Lustria. Skittak and his band of "loyal" retainers had managed to break into a vault of the Lizard-things which was filled with arcane devices and they began looting what they could. Among the wondrous technological items they had found, the Warlock Engineer had picked up a small silvery icon that somewhat resembled a spider with a shiny diamond-like crystal inside it.

He had studied it for a moment and the silver spider thing then began to glow with a brilliant white light and the next thing he knew, he was here on some strange, other place along with a large part of the army that was supposed to be laying siege to the Lizard-thing stone fortress. No doubt that one of Skittak's bungling and incompetent henchrats had been careless enough to trigger some sort of trap. It was the only possible explanation for there was no chance that the greatest technological mind in all of Skavendom could have triggered it, he was too clever for such a thing and he began to think that some jealous rival had infiltrated his circle with spies who sought to thwart his humble work.

He would have to deal with finding the hidden traitor later for he was more focused on seeing the battle unfold. Weapon Teams carrying Jezzail guns carefully picked off the enemy from a distance while the crews of Warp Lightning Cannons and Ratling Guns scanned the sky for more flying machines. The bright bolts of light which were fired from the weapons of the unknown things was enough to take down a Skaven per shot but the numbers of the creatures was not enough to halt the swarm.

Some of the smaller things which were clad in heavy looking armour were quick to flee the awesome might of the Skaven while the taller furred ork-like things and the other tall things were more eager to engage the Clanrats in close quarters. The most dangerous of them though were the two shield bearing, large blue armoured things which fired bright bolts of green energy that exploded like the cannon balls of the Man-things and Dwarf-things. Those Clanrats who managed to get close to the blue-things were immediately pulverized into red pulps as the large creatures swung their weapons and shields in surprisingly swift and deadly arcs.

The Rat Ogres which accompanied the Clanrats had taken a lot of fire but most of the creatures survived long enough to get in close to the ranks of enemy warriors. One of the large, flesh-crafted brutes had its skull caved in by an armoured blue-thing before another Rat Ogre grabbed on it and used its strength to tear of a limb. The two blue-things were soon overwhelmed as well by the other Rat Ogres who tore the creatures apart like regulars Ogres over the carcass of a cow.

Tittering with excitement as the Skaven warriors claimed victory in this skirmish, Skittak was most eager to study the weapons of their new enemies.

* * *

><p>Under the cover of night, Noble Six watched as Covenant Infantry squads moved up the hill where he had been cornered earlier. Drops pods carrying reinforcements had already landed and from them, he saw Brutes and Elites equipped with a variety of alien weapons, the ones which really caught his interest though were the Needle Rifles and Fuel Rod Cannons that some of them carried. Readying his Magnum and looking down the sights, he surveyed the area where a number of other Covenant troops simply stood still.<p>

Of the darked armored woman, he saw no sign of her which was the cause of some concern for yet again; he saw something which he just could not explain. The dark armored woman had practically killed the previous aliens and after she had just disappeared, they began to rise up. Was it possible that the woman had only wounded the aliens? Had they only been incapacitated long enough for her to escape?

Through his augmented vision which pierced the night, he saw several of the aliens slow down as they came up the hill and they tried to get the attentions of their comrades who had assailed the woman. The Elites moved towards their reinforcements in a slow, shambling manner which also reminded the Spartan of certain forms of popular media entertainment. One of the Elites, a red armored warrior advanced to one of its shambling kin and the alien attempted communication with the shambling ones and it took a step back before as both the Elite and the others got a good look at their comrades.

One of the shambling Elites whose eyes glowed with green lights that sent a chill down the Spartan's spine, immediately lunged forward at the Red Elite and its mandibles spread wide open as it grabbed the unfortunate alien and tore out a large chunk of flesh from the Red Elite's throat and causing an arterial spray of blue blood. The other Covenant infantry opened fire upon the shambling Elite and more of them with eyes glowing with green lights, began to appear over the hill with a faint moaning sound emanating from their throats. Once again, Noble Six's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw something that should not even be remotely possible.

Aliens which had been slain by the black armored woman were now moving, they walked and moaned as they reached out to find the closest of their living kin and devouring the flesh of those they reached. The Spartan saw a shambling Grunt with its breather off, latch onto the back of a Jackal and the small alien bit off a bloody chunk out of the avian creature's left shoulder. Plasma bolts struck the shambling ones but the shots only partially slowed them down.

Among the aliens, he saw a Brute Chieftain armed with a Gravity Hammer who was faring rather well. The large beast crushed the skulls of the shambling ones with mighty swings that sent bodies flying and many of the Covenant began to rally around the Chieftain. The idea of killing the Chieftain and claiming his weapon was also a tempting one for Noble Six for among all the various weapons of the Covenant Arsenal, the Gravity Hammer was by far was the most suited for his style but of course, he did remind himself that he did not have his MJOLNIR armor on, so the idea was immediately discarded as he opted to wait and see what would happen.

As the Covenant regrouped and they fought with the Chieftain at the lead, he saw a dreadfully familiar, dark shape suddenly materializing within the dark.

* * *

><p>Placing a clawed, gauntleted hand over the scalp of a small, grey skinned creature which wore some sort of mask, the Countess easily crushed the thing's skull like a chicken egg and eliciting a loud wet crack as bright blue blood flowed between her armoured fingers. Her sword swung to the side, severing the beak of a wiry, bird-like from its head and with unnatural speed, she moved into the pack of creatures while carving a bloody path. She plunged her sword into the back of another masked grey skin's head, causing the blade to burst out from its mask and she tore off the arm of another bird creature which carried an odd looking, rifle-like weapon with purple crystals placed upon the top.<p>

Furious at the interruption of her search for the Key and the destruction of many of the minions she had just raised, the Countess hacked and slashed with her sword while using her unnatural strength to crush armour and bones. The Mortis Cage fed upon the deaths of the creatures but their souls were such weak morsels that even a mere goblin would provide a greater fare. The Countess decided that she would have to conserve her spells for dire situations and until then, she would have to rely on her own skills as a fighter as well as the innate Blood Gifts which all of the Arisen had.

It did not take long for the Countess to make her way to the taller creatures which had the decency to face her in close combat and as soon as they caught sight of the Vampire, their mouths split wide open to reveal the rows of teeth while bringing their weapons up. Some hesitated to fire for their smaller comrades were still behind the Countess and a misplaced shot could hit them while others, such as the hairy beasts, had less compunction and they fired a volley of burning metal shards. Being no stranger to facing enemies armed with guns, the Countess zigzagged while trying to throw off their aim and she easily closed in to use her sword.

Blood which both smelled and tasted foul, flowed as the ensorcelled sword cleaved through both flesh and armour. The monsters were forced to try to bludgeon the Countess with their weapons and judging by their speed, skill and strength, getting up close would have been a poor idea if she were still a mere mortal… if she were. Ducking underneath the swing of a weapon from one of the things with a mouth that split open, the Countess drove the tip of her sword up the orifice, piercing the roof of its mouth where the blade burst out from the top of the skull.

A heavy impact struck against her left pauldron as one of the split mouths landed a hit that was mostly absorbed by the sorcery which imbued her armour. The strike was enough to cause the Countess to hiss in pain and lunged towards the split mouth her gauntleted left hand immediately wrapping one set of its mandibles. Tightly holding on to the fang filled mouth parts, she quickly followed up with a kick that sent it flying into another of its kin, and the mandibles which she held onto were ripped out from its owner with a shower of blue blood.

A loud roar was heard from among the crowd and a massive hairy beast who was clad in ornate heavy armour and a warhammer, shoved its way past the split mouths and the others of its kind. Clearly being some kind of leader, the Hammer-wielder pointed its weapon towards the Countess and it began barking in some crude, guttural language, likely issuing some sort of challenge. The other hairy beasts began to back off but the split mouths seemed uninterested and in their animal-like eyes, she saw only a desire for vengeance.

The hairy beasts began making threatening growls and animalistic barks that forced the split mouths to back down and the Countess obliged the Hammer-wielder with a salute of her sword. The monsters then took a number of steps back with anger still in the eyes of the split mouths while the hairy beasts began to chant what was likely the name of the Hammer-wielder.

'Arcus! Arcus! Arcus! Was the chant taken up by the brutish, hairy beasts as they stamped their feet to the ground and the Hammer-wielder, this Arcus, took a few step back as well to give himself some space to for swinging his own weapon.

Having seen from the shadows how this mighty beast had so easily crushed her zombified minions, the Countess had a feeling that she could not allow herself to be hit, even once by that massive hammer. This beast would make a fine minion thought the Countess as she took a step back as well and the two of them began to slowly circle each other while the chanting continued. Exposing her fangs and delivering a sharp hiss, her opponent bared his teeth and let loose a loud roar that would have matched that of an orc warlord.

And with that, the two combatants began their duel, unknown to them was the carnage that went on not far from the gathering.

* * *

><p>Looking down the sights of his Magnum, Noble Six squeezed the trigger which sent out a single round which pierced the skull of a fleeing Grunt carrying a Fuel Rod Cannon. Having already discarded the Plasma Rifle which he had picked up earlier, the Spartan had quietly put down six other fleeing aliens, each one had died with a well placed shot to the head. Discarding his now empty pistol, the Spartan first went to the body of a Jackal which had carried a Needle Rifle and he picked up the alien weapon.<p>

There were three other fleeing marksmen he had killed and so he went about, collecting what ammunition they carried before going to the bodies of the Grunts with the Fuel Rods. A good find, thought Noble Six who felt more confident about his chances with these weapons. When he finished scavenging for equipment among the dead, he quickly reloaded both the Needle Rifle and Fuel Rod as well as taking a few plasma grenades.

Taking the time to do a quick survey of his surroundings, he saw that there were still a few fleeing aliens. Noble Six then placed his right eye to the scope of the Needle Rifle and he lined up a shot against a Grunt but before he could shoot, he heard the soft sound of something moving close by. Trusting his instincts, he swiveled the rifle to the left and squeezed the trigger, causing a purple crystalline round to fly out and it struck a Skirmisher in the right eye. Hissing a curse, Noble Six leapt to his right to avoid a hail of plasma shots as several more Skirmishers converged upon his position.

Immediately when he got back up to his feet, he fired a shot that caught another Skirmisher in the throat and he was forced to begin sprinting while trying to evade their gunfire. The tall grass which he had earlier used now worked against him as the smaller aliens were able to move at full speed in the brush while the Spartan himself would have had to crouch if he wished to remain hidden. Noble Six also realized that without the radar of his helmet, he would be more vulnerable towards enemies who may try to flank him.

Wishing once more that his MJOLNIR had not malfunctioned on him, the Spartan quickly turned around and fired a trio of shots that struck a Skirmisher in the chest, causing it to explode in a burst of purple plasma. The remaining Skirmishers, of which were much faster than him, continued their pursuit of the Spartan who had to keep looking over his shoulder to see the trajectories of the plasma bolts. If it was a game of cat and mouse which the aliens wanted to play, then the Spartan was happy to oblige them by being the dog that eats the cat.

* * *

><p>Pounding his fist onto the armrest of the command throne, the Shipmaster muttered a silent curse as he heard the latest reports. The squads he had sent down to investigate the second anomaly had all been wiped out and one of the Phantoms had been destroyed. They had lost contact with the Spec Ops team which had been investigating the first anomaly and the reinforcements they sent towards them were now reporting of an engagement.<p>

'Shipmaster!' called one of the operators upon the bridge and the Sangheili turned his attention towards the crew member who then continued 'we have a visual feed coming in from the planet's surface'.

'Open it' commanded the Shipmaster as he tried to maintain his calmness.

The holographic display which would normally be used to plot courses then changed to show the live recording of what was going on down on the planet through the HUD of one of the Elites. He saw several of his fellow Sangheili and the Brutes forming a ring around two individuals, one was a Chieftain whose very sight grated on the Shipmaster's nerves for he absolutely hated this particular beast who often undermined his authority. What the Chieftain fought though was hard to discern for all he saw was a blur of movement and the Elite who was sending the visual feed had a hard time trying to follow it.

The Chieftain bled from several wounds as he swung his hammer around in mighty arcs which could crush a Demon in one blow and there were bright flashes sparks as he barely managed to parry something that was black in color. Silence had descended upon both the Brutes and the Elites as all eyes were focused on the duel that was unfolding. The Gravity Hammer swung wide to the Chieftain's left as his opponent who still moved with great speed, easily dodged it and the Shipmaster briefly saw a blade-like object stab into the left thigh of the Brute leader, between the straps of his greave.

The Chieftain roared in anguish and he swung his hammer again but once more he missed before collapsing to one knee. Barks of disbelief were heard from the Brutes and the Shipmaster who privately felt at least some satisfaction in seeing this Chieftain humbled, finally was able to get a clear sight of what they surrounded. Standing in the middle of the dueling ring was a slender, lone human in an ornate suite of black and gold armor which seemed incredibly even more primitive than the armor used by most human soldiers.

The human was equipped in no manner he had ever seen one of their kind dress and what was especially notable was the black blade it carried. Green sigils glowed along the length of the blade which was covered in the blood of various colors. A black mane covered the scalp of the human whose eyes glowed with bright green flames that seemed highly unnatural to the Shipmaster and it looked down upon the Chieftain with contempt.

The Brute Chieftain tried to get back up to his feet but it struggled to do so for rivulets of blood flowed from wound. His opponent then placed its blade upon the throat of the Chieftain and with a single motion, the Brute's throat was slit. The Chieftain gurgled in pain as blood sprayed from the wound and the human then turned its baleful, hellish green eyes upon them.

Extending its mouth to reveal a set of sharp fangs, the human hissed at the gathered warriors before charging directly at the remaining warriors. Everything became chaos as the Brutes and Elites tried to slay the human and all the Shipmaster and those aboard could hear were the screams of their troops.

'By the Prophets' whispered one of the crew members with mounting horror.

'Contact the rest of our forces' quietly commanded the Shipmaster with calm anger 'I want every soldier, every vehicle, every hunter and scarab still on the planet to converge upon this region.'

'Yes sir!' came the voices of the crew as they dutifully obeyed.

'Contact the Fleet of Particular Justice and see if they can be recalled' added the Shipmaster.

'Sir, we are picking up more anomalies on the planet' came the voice of a crew member 'several of them!'

Through great concentration, the Shipmaster maintained his composure and he immediately began weighing the options of just going ahead with glassing the planet, especially the region where the Demon had been spotted.

'Receiving transmission Shipmaster, from High Charity' spoke the same crew member who seemed to have been giving a lot of bad news to the Sangheili commander who sighed and nodded to the crew member who then performed a series of operations upon his console. The holographic display lighted up and it showed an insignia which all aboard the Vigil of Remembrance knew well for it was the seal of The Ministry of Tranquility.

'This is the Minister of Tranquility to all ships within the Fleet of Holy Respite' spoke a sagely voice which was being transmitted from the holy city itself 'all glassing upon the planet, Reach is to be ceased and all remaining forces are requested to begin occupation of its surface.'

'Occupation?' spat the Shipmaster as he saw the great energy lances fired from the other ships immediately powered down.

'Reinforcements from the Fleet of Conserved Wrath are now en-route, keep faith in our Covenant strong for the day of the Great Journey draws closer' then said the Minister of Tranquility before the transmission ended.

With a tired sigh, it seemed to the Shipmaster that the battle for this cursed planet was far from over…


	5. Chapter 5

A bright burst of purple energy flashed along the plains as a trio of crystalline rounds caused a chain reaction which obliterated an unfortunate jackal skirmisher and sent it flying. The alien's death was soon followed by another who received a Needler round right between the eyes and a third was killed by a shot to the throat. The tables had just turned realized Noble Six with relief as the remainder of the damned aliens turn about to flee from him.

Pain flared up from the wounds he had sustained from his earlier last stand for he had yet to find a first aid kit with which to treat the injuries he had received. His head began to grow light and his vision spun from the loss of blood which now seeped stained his bodysuit. Taking a difficult step forward, his legs began to shake and he was forced to put the stock of his Needle Rifle to the ground and use it as a makeshift crutch.

The Spartan's breathing began to become difficult and once more, he was forced to rely on sheer strength of will to stay on his feet. The pain had become almost unbearable, even to his enhanced physiology and he knew well enough that he needed to get medical attention as soon as possible. Wishing that he had some morphine right about now, he was forced to simply just grit his teeth and carry on while simply just dealing with it.

The weight from the Fuel Rod he had acquired began to feel even heavier upon his back (especially due to the lack of his MJOLNIR) and he thought about just throwing it away but the rational part of his mind reminded him that he would need it in case he ran into any heavy enemies such as Hunters or vehicles. The tracks left behind by the Skirmishers were still fresh and he could use it to follow wherever it is they had gone. A small part of him, the one that governed his instincts for survival thought that he should focus on staying away from the aliens and try to find a place to recuperate but another part, the one that knew he already was a dead man told him "screw it and go kill as many of damn bastards as possible"

Going with the latter, Noble Six knew that deep down, he was already living on borrowed time because if the aliens didn't kill him first, then it would be either the blood loss or infection. As he took another step, he noticed a bright green fire in the sky that was rising up and immediately he knew that it was a flare. Yet, who used green flares? He wondered for as far as he had seen, the UNSC made use of bright red ones and occasionally, the Covenant had blue, probably plasma ones.

But what if it were stranded human forces he thought? Perhaps some other group of remaining UNSC survivors who might need his help? People with supplies which he was in desperate need of? Knowing that it was not like he had any other, the Spartan decided to investigate the source of the flare.

* * *

><p>The strange weapon felt surprisingly sturdy and cool upon the clawed paws of Skittak Fang who studied the device with academic interest. The dust cloud had somewhat seemed to settle and it became easier for the Warlock Enginer to inspect what it was he held and from what he could tell, it was composed of twin blue metal stocks which were connected together by a handle where there was also what looked to be a firing mechanism connected to the front section. It had been brought to the Warlock Engineer by one of the clanrats of whom he quickly shooed away while more and more of the devices were being brought to him and his fellow Skyrers.<p>

The skaven army that surrounded Skittak and his cohorts were busily setting up a defensive perimeter while the Warlord rode towards them with an imperious look in his eyes. The heavy thuds of the Great Pox Rat could be felt and heard as the armoured warbeast strode towards the Engineers. It's flanks were covered in sturdy iron barding that loudly clattered with each step and upon its back was the Warlord himself who was just as heavily armoured as his mount.

As was customary to a leader, Skittak and his fellow Skyrers prostrated themselves to the Orc-Flayer while baring their necks in customary subservience. As much as it rankled at Skittak, he who was the greatest genius in all of Skavendom to bow to some two token Warlord from a clan he had never even heard of until the recent expedition to Lustria, he knew full well that if he were to offend Kreetok, his life would be forfeit.

'Hail-greet, mighty and terrible Tyrant of Clan Darrs' announced Skittak Fang while falsely playing sycophancy 'kill-slayer of thousands of greenskins, conquerer of dwarf-thing cities and blight of man-things!'

The Warlord took a deep breath and there was a pleased look upon his face as these names were spoken by the Warlock Engineer. 'Enough' interjected the Warlord with one raised paw 'now-now, speak-squeak where we are?'

'Ah, well that is… problem-trouble oh greatest of Warlords' replied Skittak 'We are not-not in Lustria right at the moment'

'I can see-spy that, Skryer' growled the Warlord with annoyance 'Specific-know, where-where here?'

Lies and excuses came into the mind of Skittak Fang who absolutely had no idea but to say that now would make him look bad. 'Near-close Chaos Wastes!' was the hasty reply of the Warlock Engineer which drew several frightened looks from those Skaven within earshot. The musk of fear had been loosed by many other Skaven and even the Warlord himself was unnerved for all, for the Skaven themselves knew that the dark lands of the North (which also was actually quite rich in Warpstone) were home to many strange and unusual things that were as deadly as the wildlife of Lustria.

'Certain-sure?' asked Kreetok whose gauntleted began to tighten around his weapon.

'Only theory-guess' replied Skittak Fang. 'Dry-dusty land, strange things-meat and look-gaze' he said while pointing up at the night sky 'different-weird moons.'

The Warlord then gave a questioning look towards the Warlock Engineer for a moment, gauging his sincerity and after a short while, he turned away and began bellowing orders to his warriors. Skittak Fang then gave a soft sigh of relief while congratulating his own cunning before turning his attention back to the strange weapon. Using both hands to hold the weapon with his right paw on the handle and the left holding onto the lower stock, the Warlock Engineer, he pointed it towards the ground and he pressed the firing mechanisms.

Bright bolts of searing blue energy were fired from the front section, between the two stocks and a rush of triumph filled Skittak Fang. Despite the odd yet highly advanced design, he Skittak Fang, had uncovered the technological secrets of this weapon and he knew that without a doubt, it was his own genius that carried him through! The other skaven looked to him with surprise and the Warlock Engineer could not help but grin back at them as he began to imagine an army of clanrats armed with such weapons…

But that would not do he realized! If the masses of Skavendom knew how to use such weapons they would fall to infighting and they would oppose his greatness! Skittak Fang would have none of it! For now he had to come up with a clever way of explaining that it was only through his genius that he was able to make such a device work and that if any other foolish and unworthy Skaven would try it, it would explode on them.

Yes! That was exactly what he would say to them! He would hoard these weapons, he would learn how to wield and replicate them! And then he would build an army of such terrible might that it would make he Skittak Fang! The greatest of all Skaven whose very feet the Council of Thirteen would grovel before!

'Most cunning and terrible of inventors' came a sudden, subservient voice from behind the Warlock Engineer who turned around to face this impudent little cretin who dared to intrude on his thoughts of humble glory.

'What now, fool-meat!' hissed Skittak Fang towards the lesser Engineer who was pointing up to the sky. Looking up, the Warlock Engineer saw a bright green flare of warpfire in the sky.

'Other skaven!' exclaimed the lesser Engineer for it was not unusual for some armies to carry flare guns which could be used to signal attacks or to catch the attention of enemy forces and set up ambushes.

'Find-Seek! Find-Seek!' roared the voice of the Warlord as he bellowed orders to his warriors.

Soon the verminous tide was on the move once more with the Engineers of Clan Skyrer now carrying their newest prizes.

* * *

><p>Silence had finally fallen upon the hill and despite the foul stench of non-human blood, the Vampire Countess with eyes closed and arms spread out, basked upon all of the death which now surrounded her. It was a very sweet and satisfying thing, to hear that last dying beat of a mortal heart, the warm feeling of fresh blood upon her cheeks, the sight of life fleeing from the eyes of the dying and most importantly, the moment when the soul is severed from its mortal coil. Despite the weakness of these creatures' very souls, the sheer quantity of death they provided was more than enough to fuel both the being of the Countess along with the Mortis Cage.<p>

Slowly opening her eyes and inhaling the cold, dry air which smelled of burnt ozone, dust and non-human blood, the Countess knew that she would not have much time. The Countess then magically altered her gaze and switched to the use of Witchsight which caused the world around her became grey and colourless, more so than usual due to the distinct lack of magical saturation that permeated everything in this world. Kneeling down upon the bloody ground, surrounded by the corpses of the many monsters, the Countess then began her search for the Key.

The Aethyric resonance of the Key had become faint, weak from her strange journey and merely the act of seeking it would be much like trying to find the lighthouse with fires that were weak while the night was dark and filled with fog. Pouring an extra portion of energy into her Witchsight and strengthening it, the Vampire's sorcerous vision began to become clearer and soon, she was able to find the weak ember of light that was the Key. It was some distance away from where the flying machine had exploded and underneath some of the wreckage.

Switching back to her regular sight, the Countess opened her eyelids and she found herself to still be kneeling among the dead. Slowly rising back up to her feet, she sheathed her sword and began to alter her form, causing bones to snap underneath the Vampire's dead flesh which fused with her armour. In a mere few seconds, the Countess had once more, taken the form of a wolf and she bounded towards the location of the Key which in turn, did not take long.

When she arrived at the spot where the Key had fallen, she saw that a large pieces of heavy and broken machinery which it lay underneath. Taking on her human form again, the Countess then began the tedious process of clearing the way. Like all of the Arisen who only grew more powerful with the passage of time, the Countess possessed a formidable degree of physical strength equal to that of a Troll or a fearsome Yhetee from the Mountains of Mourn.

One by one, the Countess grabbed several large pieces of the ruined flying machine and she lifted it them up with as much effort as warehouse worker carrying a large sack of grain. After a few minutes of grunting and lifting which would have taken an entire work gang along with oxen to clear, the lady Vampire soon found that which she sought. The Key, which resembled a small, spider-like brooch of silver and diamond remained completely pristine and undamaged, despite the passing of eons, the battle at the Lizardmen Temple, the fall from the sky and the weight of the flying machine.

So much effort and all for such a small, pretty little thing, was the thought of the Countess. Only a faint glow remained within the Key, an indicator of its diminished power. From what the Vampire had learned of the spider-like object, it required a great deal of Aethyric energy to be activated, more so than what she along with the Mortis Cage had available at the moment.

Now where would someone like her find a potent source of power she wondered for this world, this… Reach was devoid of the very Winds of Magic itself. And as if by some strange luck, she suddenly began to sense and smell that familiar sickly sweet stench that caused the lips of the Countess to curl back like a wolf's and both fang and claws extended. Oh wonderful she thought with a snarl while placing a tight grip upon her sword, it looks like she was not the only one to arrive from Cuahtan.

* * *

><p>A chill wind blew across the mountains of the Highland Territory and to the small band of surviving UNSC Marines who had been left stranded there; the war seemed almost like a distant thing. With night having already fallen, visibility had become very low and they were forced to turn off the flashlight attachments of their assault rifles to avoid being seen by any possible enemies. Each of the Marines were low on ammunition, they carried little in the way of medical supplies or even nasoc food and drinkable water and most direly, their morale was completely broken.<p>

Reach has been lost and they had been ordered to evacuate from their previous base which had been under siege and head towards the Aszod Shipyards where a single ship had remained and they had no doubt that by now, that ship had either been destroyed or had left the doomed planet. The Pelican that had been transporting their squad along with those carrying the rest of their regiment had been ambushed by an overwhelmingly large swarm of Covenant Banshees and Vampire aircraft. The only reason why they had avoided being shot down or blown out of the air was thanks to their pilots (with no small amount of encouragement from the others) who broke off from the rest of the Pelicans and flew elsewhere, all while the others were being destroyed.

They had tried to rationalize it, to tell themselves that it had been necessary because if they stayed on the flight path, the aliens would have destroyed them. It was a small comfort but deep down, they could not shake the feeling that they had simply run away, that they had abandoned their regiment. When they had first arrived on Reach, their Regiment had numbered three thousand and now… now they were sure that it was just them, five marines and two pilots.

They had landed on a plateau in a remote location, far away from any known UNSC installations and they headed towards a forested area which would at least provide some defense from aircraft. Their only hope at the moment was to find maybe a farmstead or any civilian structure that may provide them shelter for the night. Until then, they had to make do with their lack of supplies and even camping equipment for there had been so little which they could pack before having to evacuate their base.

The group of survivors soon came to a stop once more for due to darkness surrounding them along with the lack of any night vision equipment, they had to regularly make sure that no one had strayed away.

'Headcount!' came the audible whisper of Corporal Higgs who was the closest thing the group of Marines had left for a CO. He quickly heard the names of his fellow survivors, Private Maggie Taylor, PFC Marcus Adams, Private Gray Jacobson, Pilot Raymond Fehr, Private Matthias Saul and… 'Wait- where is Mckenzie!?' spoke the Corporal, referring the last pilot.

'She was just right behind me!' came the alarmed and almost panicking voice of Greg Jacobson.

A moment stunned silence passed between the survivors who honestly had no idea what to do especially because for all they knew, there could still be Covenant in the area. They all knew quite well that the aliens had access to advanced stealth technology and more than once, all have heard horror stories of invisible killers that can decimate entire squads by picking off members one by one. There was also the distinct possibility of hostile wildlife for there were more than a few known worlds out there in the galaxy which had some rather dangerous critters that should best be engaged with military-grade weapons.

'Can we raise her on the radio?' suggested Fehr.

'We can't, comms are down' reminded Saul.

'Well we can't just leave her out there!?' loudly said Adams.

'No one is being left behind!' responded Higgs 'we backtrack and try to find her!'

The other marines voiced their agreement with the Corporal and they turned around and began retracing their path. Each step they took was a nerve wracking one for they had no way of telling if there were snipers or dangerous wildlife. Continuously did they call out the name of the missing pilot while keeping their eyes open for any hostiles.

Their search continued on for several minutes, yielding no success and the Corporal began to have a dread, gut feeling that something was watching them. He could not quite say what it was but he could have sworn that he saw movement in the darkness. It could have been his imagination he thought, perhaps the stress of having so suddenly being placed in charge and oppressive surroundings was starting to get to him.

'Lights on' ordered the Corporal in an audible, whispery voice and soon the darkness around them was partially banished by the beams of illumination from the underside of their guns.

It was a mild relief really to be able to see his comrades and they carried on with their search. Maintaining a loose formation and keeping within their lines of sight, they cautiously stepped over brush and briar while still calling out for the missing pilot.

'Hey, you guys smell that?' asked Taylor with a hint of confusion in her voice and Corporal began sniffing the air.

There was something strange, like a perfume that was very strong but not unpleasant. There was something about the smell that made him feel… calm, relaxed and at ease, as if all the troubles in the universe was no longer there. He tried to pinpoint exactly where the smell was coming from and he got the sense that its general directs was to his right.

Turning right to see if he could find what was causing such a lovely smell, the UNSC Marine's eyes opened widely on what he saw. Illuminated by the lights of their assault rifles were two of the most magnificent beings he had ever seen in his whole life. The two beings slowly sauntered towards them and the Corporal could not bear to take his gaze away from what he beheld.

One was a tall beautiful woman with milky pale skin, a mane of lustrous black hair, exotically dark, almond shaped eyes that gazed upon them with interest and a body that would put super models and porn stars to shame. The woman's face was angular in shape with sharp, pointed ears and full red lips which were curled into a slight grin. What the marine especially found intriguing was the woman's choice of attire for there honestly was not much to begin with and what little she wore which was the color of black and pink, only served to heighten her feminine form.

The other figure (of whom was no less impressive) was a taller man wearing a suite of exquisitely designed shining black armor with shoulder pads of bright pink. The man's face was both regal and proud with fair, baby pink flesh, chiseled features that made the marine feel envious of this stranger's countenance. Long, lustrous, silver hair flowed from the scalp of this giant of a man whose jade green eyes spoke of the strength and confidence of a leader whose very presence could inspire an army.

There was something at the back of the Corporal's mind that told him to open fire upon these two yet he couldn't bring himself to do it for they were just so… perfect.

* * *

><p>'What delicious little new morsels' quietly commented the Chaos Lord, Vorstag "The Violater" Ivarson with a lascivious grin spreading upon his face.<p>

'Just as the other human said' purred the silky voice of his… "partner" (if one could even say that) Selamieth Bale of Ghrond.

'I will be sure to personally reward that one later' grinned Vorstag who bared his needle sharp while running a serpentine tongue across the sharp, pearly white points.

The strangely dressed group of mortals were now under the sway of both the Chaos Lord and the Druchii Sorceresses who accompanied him. As ever, the blessed daemon musk granted to them by the Dark Prince Shornaal (or Slaneesh as others called the Pleasure God) was enough to intoxicate those who were weak of mental fortitude. If the Chaos Lord so desired it, he could have these mortals engage in all sorts of wonderful depravities which he was sure that he could think of.

For now, there were greater concerns to be had such as knowing exactly where they were. The last thing the Chaos Lord could remember was that his warband along with the disciples of the Hag Queen, had been in the midst of a pitched battle against the Lizardmen. The fighting itself had been a sensuously bloody one with so much gold and treasure to be had for it was well known around the world of the wealth that was hoarded by those overgrown snakes.

During the course of the battle Vorstag had led his Chosen to smash their way into one of the stone vaults and within they found hills of gold just waiting for them. With avaricious glee that would match a dwarf's, the followers of the Dark Prince began gathering as much coin as they could carry but one of those scheming Sorcerers of the ever changing god, Tchar, had found something of great value, something which the elves of Naggaroth were seeking. The Druchii Sorceress who now accompanied him had demanded the object from the Sorcerer and when it seemed that they were about to engage in an arcane duel, there was a bright flash of light which blinded him.

The next thing Vorstag knew, he was no longer in the stone temple of humid Lustria and instead, he was someplace else where everything seemed so… stable, so mundane and stuck with an elf. He had an overall disdain for the fey folk who always thought themselves so high and mighty when compared to Men, especially with their good looks and pretty hair that rivaled his own perfection. If it were up to him, he would have enslave, violate, scalp and humiliate each of the Druchii who had accompanied his warband (without any particular need to order those) before eating their hearts.

But alas, it was the will of Shornaal who also gave favour to the Hag Queen and her servants, that the warriors of the Violater's warband would be joined in purpose with the elves of Naggaroth.

'Rise' slowly spoke the Chaos Lord while using the language spoken by the clans of Albion. The mortal who were composed of five men and a women (along with the other one both he and the Sorceress had earlier found), rose up with an entranced look in their eyes.

The Chaos Lord bid them to follow and like moths to a candle and like the moth, they were unaware of the dangerous of getting too close to the fire. Vorstag the Violate had so many questions to ask them, but first he realized, he should make sure that the others of his warband would be on their best behavior for it was always important to be… "hospitable" towards one's guests.

* * *

><p>Kneeling upon the crest of a rocky hill while peering through the scope of his Needle Rifle which was now down to half a magazine, Noble Six was not exactly sure of what he was seeing. Gathered upon the plains was a seething, living mass of upon the plains and from what he could see, they clearly were not Covenant. These new aliens resembled grunt-sized, rat-like creatures that were capable of walking on their own hind legs, while some were larger like Jackal and others were massive like Hunters.<p>

From what he could see, most of them were armed with crude, medieval weapons while a great many of flags and banners were raised high, each one depicting unknown insignias. Thanks to his enhanced vision, the Spartan was able to take note of the subtle differences among the gathering of aliens such as the colors of their rag-like clothing and the equipment used. From what he could deduce, they seemed to be very clannish in nature for he noted how they tended to stick together in certain groups and when a member of another group got close, they would make threatening gestures to intimidate the trespasser.

Exactly how these new aliens got here was unknown to the Spartan for he highly doubted that they were Covenant. He then began to think of that strange woman again and he wondered if there was some sort of connection. It was possible he supposed but now was hardly the time dwell on such matters.

It would be safe to assume for now that they were hostile and that there simply were too many to take on, even if he were at his best and wearing a MJOLNIR suit. Taking one last survey, he quickly noticed another group in the distance that was converging upon the gathering, and this one he realized was far more distinguishing in appearance. The last group was heralded by a swarm of rats that ran around the feet of the larger rat-like aliens and they varied in size such as that of a normal rodent to bigger ones that were the size of large dogs like a Great Dane.

The newest group of rat creatures was accompanied by things whose very appearance sent waves of dread into the heart of the Spartan. Massive creatures with anatomies that were simply impossible and by all rights, should not even exist, crawled, stomped and slithered towards the gathering. Hairless red eyed monstrosities with multiples rat heads attached in all the wrong places, legs that looked more like clawed hands, crude iron plates that was fused with twisted stitched up flesh, long spiny tails that moved like dancing serpents and attached to the bodies of these horrors were long clawed limbs, a number of which had been amputated and replaced with massive blades.

Was this all a dream? Thought the Spartan with disbelief was this some horrid nightmare which he had not yet woken up from? It was the only thing that reasonable explanation he had for the existence of those abominations went against everything he knew about the natural laws. He had to get out of here thought the Spartan who suddenly had the disturbing though that perhaps he had actually been killed by the Covenant and that he was now in hell.

Taking his gaze away from the unknown alien army, the Spartan stayed low and he crept away once more. There was something wrong here thought Noble Six, there was something terrible that went far beyond just the appearance of these strange aliens and that woman from earlier. There was a deep sense of wrongness that seemed as if the laws of physics, the laws of science and everything that made sense in the universe had just been thrown out the window.

Whatever it was, he realized that he needed to get off-world, he needed to get as far away from this place as possible and tell, no, warn the UNSC. As he quietly moved away, Noble Six suddenly halted for he heard a soft footstep, an ever so soft footstep and it was enough to alarm him. Bringing up his Needle Rifle as quickly as he could, Noble Six saw something fast and dark with glittering red eyes coming right at him.

Swinging the stock of his weapon forward, he succeeded in only striking air as his assailant moved passed him and he immediately leapt forward in time to avoid being struck by a pair of blade. The pain of his wounds flared up again and the weight of the Fuel Rod really began to take its toll on the Spartan who found that his vision began to blur. A sinister tittering sound was heard from his attacker and for a moment, he was able to get a clear look at it.

Dressed in black garments and wielding a pair of glowing green swords which strongly resembled the Katanas of Feudal Japan, a black furred rat-like alien stood before him. Many small blades and deadly implements suspiciously which also looked very similar to weapons from ancient Japan could be seen dangling from belts and bandoliers carried by his assailant. It then began to speak in words which he could not understand, a strange, scratching sound which he guessed passed for language among the rat-like aliens before finally speaking in something he could make it.

The alien raised a long, crooked finger towards him which ended in a clawed nail and it mockingly hissed in what sounded like Japanese '_Omae wa mou shindeiru_'

Pain suddenly blossomed upon the lower right side of Noble Six's hip. A burning agony greater than any he had ever known, flooded his nervous system and it was then that he realized that the damn thing had somehow poisoned him. Collapsing to the ground, his vision began to fail him once more and as darkness consumed him, he heard the sinister tittering before… silence and nothingness.


	6. Chapter 6

A stream of warm air escaped the nostrils of a Brute Major as he impatiently watched the progress of the work that was being done with arms crossed and his backside shivered in the snowy cold of the mountains. Several dozens of Grunt, Jackals and fellow Jiralhanae equipped with industrial-grade cutting tools were busily sifting through what remained of The Long Night of Solace which had been obliterated by the humans shortly before the arrival of the Fleet of Particular Justice. How the humans managed to do it, the Brute Major had no idea but he could hardly care for there had been no other Jiralhanae aboard, just a lot of cannon fodder and Sangheili.

The Brute Major remained restless and he knew that his pack-mates felt the same for they had heard the reports over the communications channels of battle anew in other regions of the planet. He was hoping that there would be humans who came, seeking to give them trouble for he was getting hungry and the previous pickings over the now glassed city had been disappointingly slim. Salivating at the thought of flesh seared just the way he liked it, the Brute Major took a deep breath of the crisp, cold, mountain air and he picked up a scent which caused him some surprise.

Sniffing the air again just to be sure, the Brute then heard the voice of one of his pack mates who asked 'What do you smell?'

'Manflesh' replied the Major with a sharp toothed grin and he immediately began barking orders to his kin.

Most of the other Jiralhanae were equipped with Spikers, Plasma Repeaters and a few also had Concussion Rifles but no heavier weapons such as Fuel Rods or Gravity Hammers. Were it up to him, the Major would have armed his fellows with Brute Shots and Maulers for he personally found the Plasma Repeaters to be inferior in comparison to Spikers and Plasma Rifles while the Concussion Rifle lacked the powerful bayonet attachment which made it effective during close quarters combat.

Those Grunts and Jackals which accompanied them were quick to ready their own weapons as all eyes became focused on their surroundings. Snow continued to fall from the night sky above as fires still burned from the wreckage of the Solace. Trying to follow the source of where the smell of human flesh came from, the Major noted that there was something quite different about it, something that was off but he could not quite say why.

A sudden loud, bestial roar echoed across the mountains and the salvagers cast their eyes about for any movement in the darkness.

'Over there!' squeaked a Needler equipped Grunt who began pointing towards the east and in the distance, the Brute Major saw several large beings thunder towards them at an incredible speed.

From the darkness, like out of some twisted nightmare came massive beasts of crimson and brass metal with eyes which burned with unholy fire and fang-filled maws of infernal breath. Atop the monstrosities were large armoured beings clad in plates that were also the color of crimson and brass and each wielded an axe, a sword, a hammer or a spear which was wreathed in fire. Insignias depicting human skulls adorned the plates of these armored with many also having actual skulls attached to ropes dangling from their bodies or weapons.

Fear began to grip the heart of the Brute Major who knew that there was something completely unnatural about these things and he instinctively brought up his Spiker. Steeling himself for battle, the Major unleashed a volley of superheated spikes from his gun which struck against the crimson and brass plates of the nearest charging beast. Raising up his Spiker and trying to get a good shot at the rider, the Major saw his target lift up and hurl a javelin towards him.

Leaping out of the way from the primitive projectile, the Major did not know of the foul sentience within the javelin which altered its flight and before the Brute even hit the ground, the thrown spear buried itself into his right thigh. Hot agony coursed through the Major who felt an intense burning sensation where the javelin had struck and he saw the meat and fur of his leg began to blacken and char as if put next to an intense flame. His agony was short lived for the hooves of one of the massive beasts slammed down into his face and reducing his brain into mess of jellied viscera.

* * *

><p>Raising his burning axe high and pointing it towards the unknown things which had been scavenging through the mountain of burning metal, the Skullhunter, Argris Bloodreaper let loose a fearsome roar of 'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!'<p>

'SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!' replied the band of Skullcrushers as their Juggernaut mounts gave their own howls of bloodlust. Bright bolts of searing light slammed into their ensorcelled plates which brightly glowed with protective runes but none were felled by the volley of fire.

Forged in blood and tempered by centuries of war, the Knight of Khorne and their daemonic mounts hardly cared for it as _berserkergang_ had descended upon them. All that they desired, all that clouded their thoughts was rage and the need to spill blood in the name of the Lord of Battle and to offer fresh skulls to their patron deity. Extending his left arm outwards with the axe-head pointing up and dipping his spear so that it was aimed low, he tightened his grip on both and readied himself for the inevitable slaughter.

A large hairy beast with a physique like that of an orc was crushed underneath the metallic hooves of his Juggernaut and Argris swung his axe down to another of the hairy things, cleaving its skull in twain and he impaled a third one on his spear. The smaller, stockier creatures yelped and fled like goblins while the other runty, bird/ lizard creatures with glowing shields tried to leap out of the way. More bodies were trampled underneath the weight of the Juggernauts and his own impaled a shield bearer upon its bladed horn

Bolts of green light struck his hellforged breastplate, causing a pain that was immediately smothered by his rage and Argris cast his baleful gaze upon those who had attacked him. A small pack of the shield bearers attempted to form a phalanx with light spitting weapons firing upon them. Spurring his Juggernaut and directing it to the gathered creatures, the daemon-construct eagerly charged towards them like a raging bull.

The phalanx continued to fire upon Argris who removed his booted feet from the stirrups of his saddle. His mount crashed into the group of shield bearers with enough force to pulverize flesh and bone into a slurry of meat and the Skullcrusher leapt off of his saddle. With another loud roar to honour the name of Khorne, he landed close to one of the shield bearers and he brought his axe down into the thing's head.

Blue blood spattered the crimson and brass gauntlet of Argris who thrust his spear into another nearby shield bearer and the weapon which contained the essence of a Daemon, pierced the shield of light and he impaled the thing in the chest. Wielding his rage like a weapon, Argris Bloodreaper lived up to his name as he slaughtered and killed every single one of the creatures that came close to him. Heads were decapitated and limbs severed from bodies as the things which proved to be appallingly pathetic close combat fighters were butchered like snotlings.

The battle between the Khornate Knights and these new foes with weapons of light became brutally one-sides the moment the Warriors of Chaos closed in for the kill. In that single night, the snow of the mountains were stained with blood that was either, bright teal, dark purple or a deep shade of red. None of the Skullcrushers cared for where the blood flowed and what colour it was, for what mattered was that there was blood spilled and skulls aplenty to offer to the Blood God.

* * *

><p>Letting loose a threatening hiss and bearing his fangs for good measure, Tatsuo Skritch of Clan Eshin enjoyed smelling the musk of fear which spurted from the other Skaven who barred his way. Quickly did those who were not of his clan make way for the Assassin and his pack of Gutter Runners who dragged the unconscious form of the man-thing he had subdued a short while ago. It was surprising that the man-thing still survived but he supposed that since his blades had been coated with poisons which were specifically tailored for Lizard-things, its potency would have been much weaker.<p>

The Assassin and his Gutter Runners made their way to the part of the makeshift camp where his fellow Eshins along with those aligned with the, were busily digging new burrows for most Skaven disliked the idea of sleeping in the open. At the perimeter of their side of the camp, several black armoured Stormvermin from the Warlord Clan, _Gaiju_, kept watch for any trouble while clutching Naginatas in their clawed hands. As soon as the Stormvermin saw Tatsuo, they parted and allowed the assassins through for his reputation was great among the clans of the Far East.

Like him, Clan _Gaiju_ hailed from the far eastern realms of Nippon and they equipped themselves with all manner of wargear scavenged from the man-things of those lands. Tatsuo himself dressed like the Shinobi native to Nippon and had spent years studying under the masters of their art, much like the ancient forbearers of Clan Eshin. Underneath his dark garb, he carried many weapons; some were left open for all to see such as his twin Katanas which had been imbued by the Grey Seers to carry potent enchantments while other more mundane but also deadly weapons remained concealed such as Kaikens and Shurikens.

Of the other clans present which were closely aligned with Eshin and _Gaiju_, there were also the warriors of Clans Kreepus and Treecherik. These two clans were thralls of the Eshin who maintained close ties with the assassins and they also trained their own breeds of professional killers. Led by their own lesser Chieftain with several packs of Clanrats, Stormvermin and Night Runners, he was glad that they helped provided extra numbers in case things turned ugly, which they inevitably do when many clans are gathered together.

While the rank and file packs along with slaves did most of the digging, Warlord Oda of the Gaiju presided over the excavation while mounted upon a War-Litter carried by burly ratslaves. Like the famed, Queek Headtaker, Warlord Oda was completely clad in heavy armour but one that was reminiscent of Nipponese Samurai. An ornate Kabuto helmet which was meant to resemble the face of the Horned Rat himself rested upon the head of the Warlord who kept one paw close to a heavy truncheon taken as a trophy after defeating the forces of a Daimyo.

Giving a slight bow in greeting to Warlord Oda, Tatsuo saw the glittering eyes of the Warlord fall upon the assassin's captive.

'Find-find Chaos man-thing?' questioned the black armoured Warlord for they had recently clashed against the northern followers of the Daemon-things while fighting the Lizard-things.

'Not Chaos man-thing, Warlord-san' replied Tatsuo. 'No-no Warpstone smell, scent-spoor different, carry-wield light shooters'.

'Man-thing know-use?' asked the Warlord with surprise for the other clans had brought prisoners from the things which used the light shooters but none spoke a language which the Skaven were familiar with.

The mention of the strange weapons which had been used by the other creatures which they encountered in this new land had quickly gained the full attention of the Warlord. While the Warlock Engineers of Clan Skryre might boast about their achievements in science and technology, they were hardly the only ones to engage in such studies. The flesh-shapers of Clan Moulders for example were masters of manipulating flesh and creating powerful living weapons such as the Rat Ogres and the Abominations of Hell Pit, the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens were masters of creating weapons of disease and Clan Eshin had spies and agents to ferret out all they knew.

There were clans which performed some small-scale (and discrete) reproductions of the Skryre weapons with varying degrees of success and those who did often tried to find some way to outdo the Warlock Engineers. Having grown quite familiar with the sight of Skryre machines over the years, Tatsuo and many of his fellows from Clan Eshin and Clan Gaiju were quick to figure out that the "light shooters" as they called them, were as much tools as a Warplock Pistol or a Musket. It would be a great bargaining chip for Tatsuo and his Clan if they could figure out how these strange weapons worked and how to build them then they could greatly shift the balance of power in Skaven politics.

'Guess-guess, Warlord-san' shrugged Tatsuo Skritch 'Clan Eshin will watch-hold on man-thing, question-ask later.'

'Have-have Pain-Pain Snails then?' asked Warlord Oda, referring to a type of acid-secreting insect from Lustria which the Skaven often use during interrogations.

'Not need-need Pain-Pain Snail' nodded Tatsuo who patted the hilts of his katanas. 'Know-know many ways to learn-learn what need.'

* * *

><p>Aboard the Bridge of the Vigil, the Shipmaster listened to the many garbled reports coming in from all across the planet. In the mountains where the Long Night of Solace had crashed, salvage teams were being ambushed by an unknown enemy clad in crimson armor and riding upon massive beasts that crushed all in their path. In only mere minutes since the beginning of the engagement, more than half of the salvagers had been slaughtered by the ambushers and the rest were either fleeing or desperately fighting back.<p>

Towards the region close where the Forerunner ruins had been buried beneath, the battalions that were in charge of securing a base site were reporting of skirmishes with human remnants forces. Quite disturbingly, there had been a sudden spike of reports about soldiers coming down with unknown illnesses which seemed to be capable of quickly crossing the species barrier. If the humans had somehow developed a virulent biological weapon then the Shipmaster would have no choice but to quarantine the region and possibly even glass the place with the infected troops in order to prevent further infection.

Another area in particular which was the cause of much concern to the Shipmaster was the arid region where the one human ship that managed to escape had originated from. Entire battalions were reporting of multiple skirmishes against another unknown enemy and already the casualties mounted in the hundreds, including fellow Sangheili. It galled him that they had no idea on what they were now facing on the planets surface and all the Shipmaster had to go on it were a few images, recorded videos uploaded from the ground troops and the audio reports that came in.

Looking to a terminal next to him, the Shipmaster tapped the holo-keys and after a moment, the machine displayed on a projector screen, several small pictures with appropriate dates and time stamped by the ship's artificial intelligence. Placing a finger on one picture, it displayed the recording of the battle between the Brute Chieftain, Arcus and the green eyed, fang-mouthed human with a glowing blade. He watched the entire unfold, taking in every detail so that he could compare it with the other recordings.

Switching to another video, the Shipmaster watched another battle in the forests of another region where squadrons of Jackals, Skirmishers, Grunts and fellow Elites were being harassed by a swift, shadowy enemy wielding primitive, spiker-like weapons. One of the soldiers in the forest managed to catch a glimpse of their elusive attackers and the Sangheili officer took his time in carefully studying the image. Clad in what was clearly armor of an unknown black metal and heavily decorated with sharp spikes and trims of gold, this unknown warrior wielded a large, sword-like blade which was wreathed in a deep-purple, almost black energy field.

The mere sight of this armored creature set the Shipmaster's nerves on edge for there was something about it that radiated pure malice. It moved with a fluid grace which put Sangheili Swordsmen to shame and whenever the thing's gloaming blade struck flesh, all that was left of the victim was a withered husk as if dead for centuries. Easily weaving around plasma bolts, the baleful creature seemed almost impossible to hit and the recording abruptly ended as the Elite who had captured the whole thing, saw the edge of the blade descending upon him.

Quickly did the Shipmaster piece together the pattern of all these sudden skirmishes for each had occurred in an area where an anomaly had been detected. Could these new foes have something to do with whatever it was that that the Survey team had earlier found? There was too much going on for it to be a coincidence and he knew that it all had to be connected.

'Shipmaster!' called one of the crew members and the Sangheili officer to the one who spoke. 'We have detected a large concentration of enemy forces, near where the last Demon sighting had been.'

'Humans?' asked the Shipmaster.

'No, something else, look' replied the crew member who tapped something on his own terminal and the holo-screen which the Shipmaster had been viewing, displayed the arid region where indeed, the last Demon which the humans called Spartans had been spotted.

A clear bird's eye image which showed masses of living creatures were spotted and the ship's sensors were detecting unknown power readings from the area around them.

'I want all available troops to be deployed into that region!' called the Shipmaster who had enough of being in the dark. His crew obeyed and orders were being sent to the warriors aboard the ship to prepare for a combat drop. It was time to shed light on this mystery and the best way to do that was with overwhelming fire power.

* * *

><p>Bruxing his fangs in frustration, Skittak Fang saw the gathered warbands of Skaven from other clans and most vexingly, many carried either the weapons or bodies of the things which his own pack had earlier fought. Outrageous! Was the thought of the Warlock Engineer for only Clan Skryre had the genius and technical knowledge to unlock the secrets of such advanced technology and only he, Skittak Fang had the vision to lead them! If they were going to salvage this situation, they would need to find some way to convince the other clans to hand over the weapons but that would be highly unlikely now.<p>

Hearing the clatter of plates and the heavy steps of Warlord Kreetok's Great Pox Rat mount, he looked over his shoulder to see the armoured Skaven who gave a cautious look to the other Warlord Clans. Maintaining an army composed of many clans was always a difficult task for rivalries and treacheries followed the Children of the Horned Rat wherever they went. The Grey Seers would likely be trying to impose at least some manageable form of order among the verminous horde but Skittak had his doubts that those useless mystics could even organize a festival.

One simply had to look upon the many failures of individuals like Grey Seer Thanquol who had led entire legions into being completely slaughtered and entire fortunes worth of Warp Tokens wasted. If the Warlock Engineers of Clan Skryre had been placed in charge then many of those campaigns would have resulted in victories for the Skaven and the world would be kissing the feet of geniuses such as himself. Skittak would have keep an eye on the horned sorcerers but until then, his primary concern, aside from betrayal from jealous rivals, was getting those weapons.

It did not take long for the combined group of Skittak and Clan Darrs to find the other Skryrers as well as their allies among Clans Vrrtkin and Ektrik. The former were primarily composed of gasmasked rats for the Vrrtkin had a strong fondness for using Poison Wind Globes and the Mortars used to fire the deadly sphere. The latter were a group of electromaniacs with a penchant for dabbling and tinkering with Doomwheels and Warp Lightning which resulted in casualties which even other Skaven found rather appalling but at least, they were useful to have around when one runs into something like a Troll.

The air around the Skryre section of the camp was filled with electrical charges for Warp-Grinders were being used to dig burrows. On one part of the camp, fellow Warlock Engineers were busily studying some of the light shooting weapons of the unknown creatures they had fought and the sight of caused Skittak's fur to bristle. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he knew that he needed to keep his temper in check for he was hardly the most senior member of the Skryrers present.

What he needed to do now was to find out what the other Warlock Engineers knew and how he could turn it to his own advantage. It would not be an easy task but Skittak was very confident in his own abilities to craft clever plots that would ultimately benefit him.

* * *

><p>Consciousness drifted back into the mind of Noble Six and the first thing that came to him was pain, a world of raw hellish torment. The plasma burns that had earlier scorched his body sent fresh waves of raw agony into his nervous systems and he felt that there was something inside him, something which made his veins feel like they were being burned by acid. He felt himself to be in a sitting position with his bound by the wrists and placed behind him with what felt like coarse leather while his feet were also bound.<p>

A foul animal stench filled his nostrils, a smell akin to raw sewage mixed with rotten meat and something else, something sickly sweet which sent a chill down his spine. His ears were assailed by a countless chittering, squeaking voices and he could hear a sound like crackling electricity and scratching upon the ground. He felt something brush past him which caused an instinctive reaction from the Spartan but he could do nothing in his bound state.

Opening his eyes, he gently lifted his head and tried to try get a good look at his surroundings, Six quickly saw the rat-like aliens again and he immediately brought his head down to pretend that he was still unconcious. Two guards with their backs turned towards him, and wielding what looked like spears were standing in front of him with tails slowing swaying and he could see that there were many others which looked to be digging with either clawed hands or primitive tools. Primitive torches burned in the night while some of the things carried what looked to be lanterns which cast an emerald green glow.

The aliens did not seem to be aware of his awakening and the Spartan decided to bide his time for the moment. Quietly observing the rat-like aliens, he was puzzled by the manner of their gear which indeed was primitive with many holding different styles. The ones closest to him for example wore armor that resembled ancient Japanese armor while others had some which seemed European in origin.

Hearing a scuttling sound behind him and he became deathly still as another thing brushed past him yet this time, it stopped right in front of him. A huge, mange-ridden rat, the size of a small dog halted to relieve itself near his feett and he crinkled his nose in disgust. It then looked to him with hungry red eyes and it bared its fangs at the Spartan.

Worried that it might try to take a bite out of him, he knew that he could do nothing about it in his prone state. A clawed hand suddenly grabbed the rat which let loose a surprised squeak which was quickly followed by a sickly wet, crunching sound. Looking up and trying to use the peripherals of his vision, Six saw one of the guards eating the upper half of the rat raw.

The other guard angrily hissed in their chittering tongue, probably demanding for some of the rat and the feeding one hissed something in response and it held the dead animal closer to it. He did not understand what it was they were saying but he had a fairly good guess that they might start a brawl over the carcass. Another hiss suddenly came from a different rat-alien which immediately halted the two and after some more chittering, the two ceased their squabbling.

Remaining still and silent, he heard the soft steps of something coming towards him and the Spartan again used his peripherals to try and see what it was. The furry body of another rat-alien passed by the two guards and it stopped for a moment before going away. There was another series of wet crunching sounds from the guards and then something bright fell and splattered to the ground near him.

Noble Six's eyes widened in recognition for in the many years of warfare he had fought against the Covenant, he knew quite well, the color of alien blood. The other rat-aliens eagerly feasted on pieces of Grunt flesh while others were also beginning to eat meat which he hoped was not human in origin. Disgust welled up within his gut for even at his most desperate, he did not think that any human would stoop to eating alien flesh and he was forced to remind himself that these were a different kind of alien like the Brutes who had a habit of devouring their prisoners.

As the aliens continued to eat, one of the creatures nearby began to shout with alarm and soon all stopped what they were doing. Slightly moving his head again to see what was up, his saw that a commotion had broken out which caused the creatures to draw their weapons or hold them at the ready. One of the rat-aliens began squeaking orders to others and there was a lot of moment before a very familiar sound was heard from above.

Instinctively looking up, the Spartan saw several Covenant Drop Pods descend from the sky along with Dropships and Banshees. Oh shit, was all the Spartan thought as he struggled with his bindings and found himself unable to break free. Soon the air around him was filled with the sound of plasma-fire and the chittering of the rat-aliens became mixed with other alien battle cries which came from the throats of Elites and Brutes.

* * *

><p>Leaping out from the Drop Pod with twin plasma rifles blazing, a silver armored Elite Ultra and his fellows Sangheili who also dual-wielded, opened fire with a barrage of energy bolts. Dozens of the unknown furry-hided aliens were cut down by plasma fire and their energy shields were reinforced by an Engineer which accompanied them in the Drop Pod. Several other squads arrived in either the individual pods or the larger ones which could contain entire squadrons.<p>

Loud Fuel Rod and Concussion Rifle explosions blossomed around the hordes of unknown aliens, sending scorched bodies flying about. From the single passenger carrying pods, gold or red armored Zealots wielding plasma sword leapt into the fray with energy blades making quick work of their foe's primitive protection. Not far away, heavily armored brutes equipped with energy shields, Gravity Hammers and Plasma Cannons were reaping their own toll among the creatures with wild abandon.

The Ultra and his squadron laid down a punishing volley with no space to miss for the enemy formed into a single tide of furry bodies and rusty metal.

'Keep together!' roared one of his kin and the Elites fought in a tight formation so that they could protect each other's flank.

From above, Phantoms and Spirits carrying more squadrons arrived around the alien horde while firing volleys of heavy Concussive shells or plasma mortars. Squadrons of Banshees which accompanied the dropships lent their own arsenal to the attack with a barrage of bright blue plasma bolts and Fuel Rod shots. Given time, the dropships would unload aside from their infantry passengers, several Wraiths, Revenants.

He killed and killed, his warrior's heart sang with joy at having such a target rich environment and when his Plasma Rifles ran empty, he tossed aside the two weapons and drew the hilt of a Plasma sword. Activating the blade which caused a hiss of ionized air, he then also switched on his wrist mounted plasma dagger and let loose a loud warcry in the tongue of his species. The other Elites took up the cry while activating their own energy blades and they became like the infamous Arbiter, Fal'Chavamee of legend who singlehandedly decimated an entire legion of warriors.

The glorious charge of the Ultras was suddenly cut short as unnatural, green flames from Skaven Warpfire Throwers bathed them along with those they had been fighting. Once polished silver armor was reduced to slag while flesh melted like wax and in a matter of seconds, all that was left of the Ultras was charred bones and molten metal. Their killers paid no heed to the deaths caused to their own kin and they laughed with maniacal joy as they sought out new targets to ignite.

* * *

><p>'Load-Quick! Load-Quick!' bellowed Skittak Fang towards a group of Clanrats carrying cages filled with specially trained ordinary rats.<p>

By hand, the Clanrats grabbed the squeaking creature and placed them inside four great wheels of wood that had been reinforced with iron plates and sharp spikes. As soon as the rats touched the interior of the war machine that had twin treadmills, they began to run and after a moment, the wheel began to move and the motion of it caused the Warpstone generator to spark to life. Warp-Conduits on each machine began to hum with life and they crackled with deadly arcs of bright green lightning.

Climbing onto the operator's seat of the Doomwheel, Skittak Fang pulled a number of levers and pressed a combination of buttons which brought it to life. Taking a deep breath of green fumes from the machine's engine, the Warlock Engineer felt emboldened by the exhaust and after a moment, the war machine began to move. Soon the ground trembled as the four Doomwheels raced towards the nearest of the giant metal things which descended from the sky.

'Horned Rat!' roared Skittak Fang who raised his right fist to the air and he felt the wind blow against him.

Like any other respectable Skaven, he cared little for the fact that he was crushing others of his kind, for what was the loss of a dozen Clanrats when compared to the greatest of technological minds in all of Skavendom! Bodies were impaled and pulped by the Doomwheel as the Warp-Conduits powered up and he stuck his head out to see if any of the enemies were nearby. Quickly spotting a group of the split-mouths in silver armoured, he accelerated to an attack speed and he relished the inevitable.

Bright blue bolts of searing light crashed against heavy iron plates of the Doomwheel which fired off a pair of warp-lightning bolts. One of the split-mouthed things was struck directly by green electricity and there was a brief flash of light around before its body shriveled into blackened crisps and another was crushed beneath the spiked wheel of doom! Maniacally laughing, he used his right hand to draw one of his warplock pistols and he pulled off a shot at one of the surviving silver armoured things.

Not bothering to see if he even managed to hit his target, he careened into a mass of squealing Ratslaves and the smell of freshly spilled blood only served to further amuse him. A loud explosion detonated nearby and he glanced to the side to see a bright bolt of energy fly past his Doomwheel and into a crowd of Clanrats in front of him. Sticking his head out and looking back to see the source of the shot, Skittak saw one of those flying machines but this one dropped something massive.

Quickly turning his Doomwheel around and crushing more Skaven in the process, the Warlock Engineer activated the shock-prods of his machine to coax more speed out of the skittering running rats. Whatever was dropped, Skittak Fang was eager to show the superiority of Skaven technology to these creatures and he saw that others of Clan Skryer had a similar idea. Not wishing to be outdone by these jealous rivals who thought themselves superior to his intellect, Skittak let loose another warcry and he wildly rode towards the enemy.

* * *

><p>Through the use of Witchsight, the Countess watched the unfolding battle between the gathered Skaven army and that of the... "Covenant". Flying machines far more advanced than those used by the Dwarfs rained down searing bolts of light, some blue which fired rapidly and others green which exploded upon contact with the ground. These creatures who referred to themselves as the Covenant, were using their machines to land troops around the Skaven and the Countess knew that she needed to move quickly.<p>

The sheer amount of Warpstone which the loathsome rat-men tended to hoard and use to power their own machines was the only thing which could give the Spider Key the energy it needed to send her back. With two armies now clashing, the Countess knew that she could not do this alone and was glad to have had the foresight to bring some help. Switching back to her mundane sight, the Vampire who remained in a kneeling position heard heavy footsteps from nearby.

Looking up, she saw the brutish warchief she had dueled earlier, the creature named Arcus held out its meaty left paw towards her while its mighty hammer rested over Its right shoulder. Dry air escaped from the bloody hole where her sword had slid against the flesh of the beast's neck and deep emerald balefires glowed from its dead eyes. The sheer amount of _Dhar_ which the Countess employed in resurrecting the beast had transformed into something quite similar to a Wight King.

Taking the beast's hand it helped her up to her feet and she looked to see the expectant face of her newest army. A small force of these Covenant creatures awaited the command of the Countess, their eyes were also filled with balelights and each of those who now stood had been infused with enough magic to raise a regiment of Grave Guard. The Countess knew that without the Winds, she would be unable to maintain her hold over the creature for long but hopefully, that would not be a problem until later.

Raising her sword and ordering for her minions to advance, the undead Brutes and Elites marched with the weapons they once wielded in life, tightly clutched in their cold, dead hands.


	7. Chapter 7

Tatsuo Skritch ducked beneath the swing of a massive hammer wielded by one of the hairy-things and he weaved to the exposed side of his opponent where two enchanted katanas found their mark. The enchantments placed within his blades caused his target's wounds to immediately putrefy and in a blink of an eye, the beast crashed into the ground, organs rotting from within. The other hairy-things did not have time to register the death of their hammer-wielding compatriot for they were in the middle of fending off the other Gutter Runner.

Like a pack of Rat Wolves, the Eshin warriors darted in and out with blades seeking for any chink in the armour of their foes. Strange barriers of light protected some of the hairy-things but quite oddly, it seemed to be much weaker at the backs of the creatures. Like Ogre Leadbelchers, the hairy-things which wielded heavy cannon-like weapons were devastating from afar but up close, they were still dangerous due to their physical strength but aside from that, they were easier to deal with once in melee.

One Gutter Runner was crushed like a bug as a gilded cannon, the ones which fired bright green bolts slammed down upon the head of the Skaven. Another unlucky Eshin clansman was caught in a swinging strike which sent the unfortunate ratman flying into a teeming mass of Clanrats which tried to rush their prey. As mighty as the hairy-things were, they were no match for the sheer numbers of Skaven who leapt onto the brutish things with blades seeking flesh.

Explosions of bright energy detonated nearby, reducing dozens of Skaven into charred husks and sending survivors scurrying with the musk of fear which was now heavy in the air. The flying machines continued to deliver their deadly volleys of light bolts which scythed down dozens of Skaven warriors in mere seconds.

'Scatter-disperse! Scatter-disperse! shouted a Warlord riding upon the back of Great Pox Rat who waved around an ensorcelled glaive and soon, trumpeters began blowing into their instruments.

Skaven packs quickly obeyed as soon as they heard the peals and they began to make space to avoid being caught in further explosions or the hail of bolts from above. Amidst the din of battle a great boom rang out and the arcane charge within the air became stronger. Again, the boom sounded and Tatsuo Skritch grinned for he knew what it meant.

Spotting a group of silver armoured split-mouths carrying glowing blades, he tossed one of his Katanas back and expertly caught it by the hilt with his tail. Drawing a third enchanted katana from its sheath; the Assassin of Clan Eshin sprinted towards enemy, eager to test his blades against skilled warriors.

* * *

><p>Biting down into a glowing chunk of Warpstone, Grey Seer Teekar of Skavenblight felt the hot rush of energy flow into his very being and he made sure to gulp down every last bit. Standing upon the arch of a Screaming Bell, he felt the potent sorceries placed within build up in resonance with his presence. The power of the Horned Rat itself flowed from the Bell, granting him a great deal of arcane protection against all forms of attack and he began to speak an incantation.<p>

Teekar's red eyes began to burn with warpfire and he raised his staff which crackled with lightning, sending out arcs of lightning into the sky. In mere moments, a sudden gale began to surround the area around them. The lightning which coruscated his staff intensified and as his incantation reached its climax, a massive bolt of warp-lightning lanced up towards the dark clouds above.

* * *

><p>The Banshee began to violently shake as it ran into sudden turbulence and the Sangheili pilot struggled to maintain his control over the aircraft. The sudden spike in wind speed caused the craft's hull to violently shake and over the communications channel, similar reports were coming in from the other pilots.<p>

'We must break off!' announced one of the other Sangheili Banshee pilots.

'Belay that!' came the commanding voice of their Squadron's leader. 'Ride the storm and destroy all who oppose the Covenant!'

Their leader's Banshee sharply dipped towards the surface of the planet, plasma weapons blazing at full automatic and Fuel Rods roaring. Following the officer's example, the other Banshees made their attack runs upon the unknown enemy. The pilot felt it when he descended hard and fast to, his heart leapt with pride as many targets were cut down.

Gliding low, above the heads of the enemy, he continued to fire into the massed swarms of furry bodies. The pilot then began to feel a strange, tingling sensation at the back of his neck, an itch upon the palms and feeling in his gut which set off many alarms. A sudden bright flash of green lightning struck the Banshee next to his and it exploded, showering fuselage upon the enemy.

Another bright flash of lightning appeared, destroying a third Banshee and then a forth. The sensors on board his craft immediately picked up the source of these attacks and he saw that it was some bizarre arch like vehicle. The pilot did not have enough time to set course for this new threat as a bolt of green lightning struck the centre of his craft.

The pilot was already dead before he even knew it.

* * *

><p>Watching the battle from his precarious position, Noble Six witnessed the destruction of a Banshee squadron and the bizarre weaponry of the rat aliens. Arcs of green lightning lanced out across the night sky, destroying Covenant aircraft as what was clearly a great bell, ominously tolled. There was a strange charge in the air, one that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand and with each great boom from the bell, his unease grew.<p>

Struggling with his bindings which proved surprisingly resilient, even for one with his enhanced strength, the Spartan was unsuccessful in trying to get himself free. A loud boom, the kind which Six was recognized as of coming from a Gravity Hammer, rang out not far from him and he glanced up to see several rat-aliens soaring through the air. A broken corpse landed near him, the rat-alien's body was completely mulched by the impact of the deadly Brute weapon.

An idea quickly came into the Spartan's mind and he began squirm like a worm towards the body. His movements were slow and the pain of the plasma burns only worsened, the adrenaline which coursed anew within his body was what kept him going. Bodies fell around him as the rat aliens fought the Covenant, despite their seemingly primitive technology, it sounded like the vermin were winning in the close quarters engagement. Roars from Elites or Brutes were mixed with the chittering and the screeching of the rat aliens and thankfully, the Spartan was able to make it to the corpse.

The dead rat alien was completely covered in rusted armor, the plates that were not severely damaged looked rather mismatched as if scavenged from different pieces. Its helmet sported a great, blade like ornament which did not seem even the slightest bit practical to the Spartan but it served his current need. Rolling around so that he lay upon his back, he extended his arms as long as he could and he raised his legs high.

Concentrating on his own movements, he was soon able to the hard part of sliding his hands past his buttocks and was quickly able move over his feet and to the front of him. A plasma grenade exploded nearby and Six hissed a curse as he got up and knee crawled towards the corpse. Placing the leather straps of his binding to the blade of the helmet, he began to cut away at the material which took him several seconds before finally, his hands were free!

He then grabbed on to the side of the helmet and he yanked it out from the dead rat alien while doing his best to ignore the gristly remains of what was left of it along. Using the helmet's blade again, he cut at the leather around his ankles and as he did so, a familiar alien warcry was heard. Looking up he, saw the blood spattered form of an Elite in blood smeared silver armor and sporting an impressive helmet.

A glowing plasma sword was held by the alien warrior who stared down the Spartan and it quickly began running towards him. Cursing again, he looked about for a weapon which he could use and on the side of the corpse, he saw what looked to be the handle of... something protruding from the belt. Without giving it another thought, the Spartan tossed away the bladed helmet and he swiftly grabbed the object which much to his surprise, was a gun, yet was more unusual was that it greatly resembled a 17th century flintlock pistol.

Better than nothing he thought, the Spartan raised with both hands, the archaic gun with strange looking mechanisms added to it and he aimed at the oncoming Elite's head. Pressing on the trigger of the gun, he felt the fairly light recoil as greenish grey smoke puffed out from the barrel along with a single bullet which left a green contrail of energy which moved fast as one would expect from a bullet. The round smashed into the energy shield which must have already been weakened by the battle for it bypassed the field and struck the helmet of the alien, killing it instantly.

Disbelief was etched upon the Spartan's face as he looked at the gun again. Certain that it was already spent, he flipped his hold of it, using his left was now tightly wrapped around the barrel and he rushed towards the dead Elite. Weaving between the fighting forms of the rat aliens and the Covenant, he was able to make it to his fallen enemy and retrieve the Plasma Sword's unpowered hilt.

Pressing the activation button, the weapon thrummed to life with a hiss of energy. Now holding both the spent flintlock and the Plasma Sword, the Spartan held no illusions that he might survive this.

'Lets dance' grimly muttered Noble Six as he charged into the ensuing fray with a wordless warcry upon his lips. Perhaps this time, he could drag as many of the aliens down with him to the grave.

* * *

><p>Pressing on the firing mechanism of his Doomwheel, Skittak Fang felt the build up of arcane energy as the warpstone weapons activated. The Warlock Engineer felt the satisfying crunch of bone and gristle as his vehicle crushed the bodies of the small things which wore the breathing masks, ahead of him was one of the heavy war machines which launched massive white blue fire balls that screamed on their way down.<p>

'Die-die!' roared the Warlock Engineer and a pair of Warp Lightning bolts lanced forth with great accuracy. A great explosions followed as his shot struck, the shiny purple hull of the screamer war machine was left blackened and damaged but still, it remained afloat.

The screamer machine belched forth another ball of flame, this one travelling swiftly towards Skittak Fang. Quickly pressing on the button which controlled the shock prods, he sent jolts of lightning to the running swarms of rats which gave the Doomwheel its primary source of locomotion, "encouraging" them to move faster. In less than a heartbeat, the Doomwheel accelerated forward, in time to avoid the screaming fireball that nearly struck him.

As powerful and durable as these war machines of the unknown enemy things were, their light weapons were highly visible and significantly easier to evade in comparison to the bullets of the Man or Dwarf-things. Powering up the Doomwheel's weaponry, Skittak fired another pair of Warp Lightning bolts and this time, the enemy machine exploded. Roaring in triumph, the Warlock Engineer smashed aside the wreckage of his kill.

Around Skittak, Clan Skryer war machines crashed into the ranks of enemy soldiery. The light shields of the bird things and the split mouths proved useless against the whirling blades of the Doom Balls and Deathwheels. More than a few of the Skryer Engines were outright destroyed by the destructive green bolts of light which exploded upon contact with any surface and some went out of control as pilots were killed by lucky shots.

Crushing more bodies beneath his wheel, Skittak suddenly felt his Doomwheel violently shake. A bright flash of searing cyan energy scorched the outer part of the wheel and the running rats collectively began squeaking in terror and the cursed little vermin tried escaping the conveyor system. Shocking the swarm again, he had no success in keeping the things in line.

The next thing he knew, Skittak Fang was sent tumbling as his Doomwheel went out of control. His entire world became a chaotic confusion of motion as the centrifuge went out of alignment and the runner rats continued to make terrified noises until finally, he crashed hard. Blacking in and out of consciousness, Skittak could still hear the sound of fighting but it was muffled and it seemed to be so very far away.

Flitting between being in and out of consciousness, the Warlock Engineer hardly registered the heavy, cautious steps approaching his ruined Doomwheel, nor did he feel the strong hands which pulled him out of the wreckage. By the time he regained his senses, it was far too late.

* * *

><p>Roaring in exultation and praising the names of both the gods and the prophets which guided their glorious Covenant, a Grunt Ultra in charge of heavy weapons team rained death upon the enemy. Tri-pod mounted Plasma Cannons and Fuel Rods were unloaded with predictably deadly results. Enemy infantry were cut down while their vehicles and the more monstrous things were felled by concentrated plasma fire.<p>

Zeal and righteous fury guided their shots, each kill made gave them glory in the eyes of the gods.

'For the Covenant!' cheered a Grunt Ultra operating a mounted Plasma Cannon as one of the massive, Hunter-sized creature was laid low by concentrated plasma fire. The rest of the heavy weapons team cheered, their morale soaring thanks in no small part as of being assigned such powerful weapons which allowed them to engage the enemy from afar.

Not far away from them, a squad of Jackal marksmen armed with either Needle or Beam Rifles were reaping their own terrible tally. Refusing to be outdone by the feather-heads, the Grunts began firing at a greater rate, bringing their guns to the brink of over-heating.

In the distance, the Grunts could some even larger and more terrifying looking things wreak havoc among their assault forces. Glad once more to be assigned to operating long ranged weapons, they rendered what assistance they could. Eventually, their guns became silenced as the power cells ran dry and the Grunts signalled to Command of their situation.

Shortly after making the call, a floating duo of Engineers arrived and their tentacles began reaching for the heavy guns. The distinct roar of a drop pod was then heard and the Grunts looked up to see the machine's descent. Landing with a light tremor close to the a heavy weapons team, the hatches opened up to reveal the neatly stacked crates of ammunition within.

Gleefully, the Grunts went towards it and began helping themselves to Plasma Grenades, Fuel Rod Cells and other munitions which they could trade with the other squads. After a few moments, one of the other Grunts yelped in terror and all eyes fearfully turned towards their squad mate who pointed at something ahead.

Looking in that direction, the Grunts soon felt a collective sense of relief for it was just a large group of Elites and Brutes.

'By the prophets, you all scared us!' called one of the other heavy gunners.

There was no reply from the Brutes and the Elites who continued to silently move towards them. An awkward silence followed as the one who just spoke looked to the rest of them and gave a shrug before looking back to the silent ones.

Something seemed off though, thought the Grunt Ultra. The Elites and Brutes normally disliked one another yet this group was moving in an uncharacteristically disciplined and organized fashion. The newcomers continued to silently march towards the Grunts and after a few steps, the eyes of every Unggoy widened in horror.

Each of the newcomers bore mortal wounds which any should have survived, deep gashes, missing limbs, missing mandibles and other such horrific injuries were plentiful and yet, they still kept on moving.

'S-stay back!' stuttered the Grunt Ultra who did not have time to reposition his Plasma Cannon and instead, he switched to the more common pistols. Again, the larger warriors did not heed the Grunt who instinctively felt a sense of dread from the silent ones.

At a closer look, they saw the green lights filling the eyes of the newcomers and after a moment, that fire flared up in its baleful intensity. With a sudden burst of motion, the Brutes and Elites sprinted towards them and the larger warriors with their longer legs were quickly upon them. Unggoy screamed in terror and soon, agony as guns were used like cudgels.

Skulls were split open, heads cracked and bones broken as the Grunts died. In a matter of seconds, it was over, those Grunts who did not run were killed to the last, the Ultra who led them had been ignominiously crushed by the Gravity Hammer of a Brute Chieftain. The Brutes and the Elites silently then watched the ensuing battle, their eyes as dead as their victims and not far away, a quiet decision was being made.

* * *

><p>Observing the battle between the Skaven and these Covenant beings, the Countess could see that it was not boding well for the vermin. The weapons which fired searing bolts of light reaped a bloody harvest among the ratmen, hundreds died in seconds as the artillery machines bombarded them and the smaller weapons fired bolt after bolt at an astounding rate. These weapons which these Covenant creatures used were far greater than any Steam Tank of the Empire or the flying Gyro-machines of the Dwarfs.<p>

Yet, the foul techno-sorcery of the Skaven was not outdone for here and there, she could see the ratmen holding the line. Mutant Abominations, nightmarish things of flesh and meat from the depths of dreaded Hell Pit brought ruin to the lines of Covenant infantry whose weapons, the ones which fired small, non-exploding bolts, proved ineffective against the fiends. Warpstone powered technology clashed with those of the Covenant in a dazzling display of lights, some bright green and others cyan blue.

The death of so many was... pleasing, to the Countess who could feel the abundance of Warpstone from the Skaven. In this realm, devoid of magic, the many small pieces of raw, solidified chaos energy were like many candles in the darkness, candles which began to spread their flames. The void of magic was slowly being filled due to all the warpstone being spent but it was like trying to fill an ocean with a trickle.

Quickly did the Countess decide to take part in the battle for this was her best chance in acquiring the Warpstone which she needed. The Countess did not fancy the idea of letting these Covenant beasts win and take all of the Warpstone for themselves, nor did she enjoy the idea of being stranded in this place where the only living human she had seen was one with polluted blood. It was now or never she thought and damn the consequences!

With a background field of magic now growing, the Countess was able to harness and it use it to fuel a spell. Arcane words in the tongue of High Nehekaran flowed from her lips, the Grave Guard under her command were infused with more power, granting them an even greater degree of power. The little ones which had been slain soon rose from the eternal slumber to join her but the Countess only infused them with the slightest portions of magic.

Touching the minds of her thralls, the Countess learned a bit of these Covenant and all she really cared for was how to best deal with the things. The little ones carried with them, small blue bombs which would light up with fire and explode. She had also learned that some of the little ones would even choose to blow themselves up on their enemies, an act of faith and martyrdom for their gods.

Having little qualms with sending more souls to whatever deities they worshipped, the Countess endeavoured to send some their way. In the distance, she spotted the tank-like machines of the Covenant, the ones which fired bright flames like the Hell Cannons of the _Dawi Zharr_. These contraptions needed to be destroyed as soon as possible and the Countess had an idea of how best to eliminate them.

Giving a mental command to her Grave Guard, the larger undead minions carefully removed any of the blue bombs which they carried and all were given to the little ones. She then focused on the minds of the little ones and imprinted the images of the tanks.

'Destroy' commanded the Countess and the little ones, now simply mere extensions of her own will, obeyed without hesitation and they ran towards the tanks with bombs held in both hands. A feral smile of anticipation appeared upon the lips of the Vampire who then turned her attention to the great battle.

The Beast Within demanded that she directly participate in it, to feel bones break, flesh torn asunder and fresh blood spilled. Chaining the Beast through iron will, the Countess knew that she must first, bide her time before striking and she ordered for her Grave Guard to form a defensive ring around her. Drawing upon the now growing background magic field, the Vampire knew of a certain, deadly spell which would do wonders further enhancing her own power.

Hissing a new series of arcane syllables, a nimbus of gloaming light began to surround the Countess. The gloaming light soon turned into a blaze of amethyst hewed fire and upon the palm of her gauntleted left hand, a small purple sphere of energy appeared and slowly, it began to grow.

* * *

><p>Feeling the crunch of cartilage and bone as the butt of his pistol smashed into the face of a rat alien, Six swung his Plasma Sword to the side and he decapitated another of the foul things. The screeches and chittering of the verminous aliens, the warcries and roars of Brute and Elites, the smell of blood was all around him and he cared not one bit. He fought with a maddened desperation which imbued his enhanced strength and reflexes.<p>

His world was now just the battle, no desperate war against the Covenant, no UNSC to fight for; no lives which counted on him, just the brutal simplicity of kill or be killed and quite strangely, it was very liberating for him. Alien gore covered the body of the Spartan as he smashed the skull of another rat alien and he slashed a Spiker armed Brute across the back, the bestial thing fell with a cry of pain which brought a feeling of grim satisfaction. Quickly tossing away his pistol which had served him well as a bludgeon, he quickly made for the dead Brute's gun and was able to catch it before it even touched the ground.

The clip on the heavy alien gun felt light and the Spartan cursed his luck as another Brute turned its ugly face towards him. Snarling with hate, the Spartan swiped at the alien with the twin bayonets of his newly acquired Spiker, the blades neatly sliced into flesh and fur before the killing stroke from the Plasma Sword ended its life along with the weapon's own. Discarding the Plasma Sword as well, he fired the remainder of the Spiker's clip into a charging rat alien before picking up a second one and wielding both in his hands.

In the past, he had once fought in a campaign alongside another Spartan III who like Noble Six himself, had a strong personal preference for close quarters combat. The other Spartan unit had on one occasion, appropriated from the Covenant a pair of Brute pistols which were quite similar to shotguns and the fellow III used the bladed guns with deadly effect on a boarding mission against a Covenant ship. Following the example of that former comrade, he hacked and slashed his way through the throng of aliens with two Spikers.

All of the hate he felt for the Covenant, mixed with his newfound loathing for the rat aliens, blossomed into a rage he had never before felt in all of his battles. A rat alien lunged at him with a spear and the Spartan brought one Spiker down hard upon the weapon, breaking the spear head and throwing off the aim of his attacker before plunging the bayonets of his other gun into the side of its head. Everything became a red haze for the Spartan who killed every alien that came within his reach, he no longer cared nor did he feel the pain of his earlier wounds and all that mattered was that he slaughtered the enemy.

He killed and killed without pity, without remorse and without pause. He did not know when he lost his two Spikers and switched to a Gravity Hammer, its power already used up and instead, he simply bashed the aliens until they stopped moving. Leaving a trail of broken corpses in his wake, the Spartan soon came upon a group of Elites fighting in a tight formation; the dead of the rat aliens lay heavy around them.

Lifting up his blood matted hammer towards them, the Spartan saw something he had never thought he would see in the eyes of an Elite, and that was fear. A wordless roar, one that sounded more like it belonged to a wild beast, escaped the lips of Noble Six who swiftly charged headlong into the band of Elites. In his mind, he desired nothing more than to spill the blood of the hated aliens, to break their bodies and sever their heads.

He imagined an image of himself, standing triumphant in his MJOLNIR, upon the skulls of countless Covenant dead, a river of gore poured from the decapitated body of the aliens as their ships and cities burned to cinders. As plasma bolts either flew past him or struck his unprotected body, the Spartan felt nothing but unending the rage. There would be only blood this night and he cared not from whence it flowed; only that it flowed...


End file.
